


Shadows from the Past

by palombaggia



Category: White Collar
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Case Fic, Drama & Romance, F/M, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 10:21:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 42
Words: 56,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1979166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palombaggia/pseuds/palombaggia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal has to quit the WC Division when Peter comes out of prison after the Pratt fiasco. Peter and Neal live oceans apart.<br/>But some things never change...especially when shadows from the past come haunting our boys.<br/>Set post season 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Free

**Author's Note:**

> I concieved the plot of this story in spring 2013 (aka before season 5 aired). I started to post in April 2013 on my LJ..and then RL happened. I started posting again in November 2013. In February 2014 my computer crashed with about 30k of the remaining parts of this story. I had to rewrite ( man, that really sucks).  
> This story is now complete and I will post all the parts here and on my LJ.  
> Unbetaed, except chapter one by the always wonderful Elrhiarhodan.  
> I've borrowed her magnificent Rialto Bridge story because it's canon, right?
> 
> As always, spelling disorders and frenchitude.....

**March 2014**

Neal couldn't wait to go back to the bureau. He was gloriously happy. In less than seven days and ten hours, Peter would be back. Back in his office.With his team. With him.

Neal discarded Diana's offer to rest after the debrief. The case had ended well, although Neal had put his life at risk, driving Hughes and everyone at the Bureau completely insane. Hughes wondered for the billionth time how Peter even survived dealing with Caffrey's creative outbursts, as Diana and Jones would call them. Somewhere along the line, Hughes had stopped even trying lecturing Neal Caffrey.

Besides, it was just a waste of time.

Diana, on the other hand, still had faith. She was, after all, Neal's handler. There were days when Hughes asked himself who was handling who in this partnership. Hughes opened Caffrey's file for the fifth time since he started his coffee break. Truth of the matter was, Hughes really liked Neal. Oh, of course he didn't trust him, not fully at least. However, Hughes had come to terms with the fact that the Neal/Peter combination was a valuable asset to the Bureau.

_CaffreyandBurke_. Always coming together in a single, awesome, invincible unit.

Hughes grabbed his phone. "Caffrey? Would you come to my office?." Neal was flabbergasted. Hughes never called anyone for a meeting in his office, even for the good news, let alone the bad ones. No. Hughes would normally give the finger sign. And what about this " would you come" stuff? Hughes was more the "Caffrey-my-office-now" type of guy. Neal left his desk, climbed the stairs, glancing at Peter's empty office. For the first time since the morning he felt rather tense.

" I am sorry, Sir about what happened at -"

Hughes raised his hand. " I have a different topic on my mind right now" he said, interrupting Neal's apologies. There was a softness in the tone of voice that startled Neal even more. "You may sit, Neal" he said.

_Neal. Woaw._

Something was definitely happening here. Neal couldn't remember the last time Hughes had called him "Neal". Probably....well....probably... never. Neal's eyes wandered across Hughes's desk. He didn't like what he saw. There were files, lots of them, his file for a start with his name, "Neal Caffrey", written in Peter's elegant writing. He gave his best dazzling con smile. "Am I getting fired, Sir?" he asked, with his nonchalant Caffrey grace. Hughes didn't answer right away and Neal freaked out. I am getting fired, he thought. Maybe Hughes had had enough of him? Maybe he had crossed the tenuous line between high creativity and blatant insubordination? Neal's mouth went dry.

_This couldn't be happening, not now for Christ's sake, not when Peter was coming back._

"Neal, you are not getting fired" Hughes said patiently.

Relief flooded through Neal's veins and he let out a contented sigh. "I am so relieved, Sir" he babbled, "because for a moment there, I really thought..."

" Neal" Hughes said quietly " We are here to discuss your transfer."

Neal almost jumped out of his seat. " My what?" he whispered, aghast.

"Your transfer" Hughes said again, his hand shifting through various files. "And the removal of your anklet" he added, matter of factly.

Neal froze.

"I don't want a transfer, Sir" he blurted out.

Hughes frowned, hoping fervently Neal would prove capable of handling himself for the rest of the meeting. Judging by the remarkable aura of panic Neal was emitting just now, Hughes came to the conclusion this was very unlikely. Neal had turned deathly pale.

"Neal" he said, his voice incredibly gentle yet very ferm, " I know you don't."

Neal started pacing around Hughes's office like a wild animal trapped in a cage for the very first time. "Neal" Hughes sighed "Please sit down."

Neal obeyed, his hands like fists, shoved into his pocket.

"You have numerous exciting job offers Neal, and I suggest we review them together, as of today you will be a free man." Hughes gave Neal a friendly smile. " I may add you are very talented despite your inclination to remain bordeline with disciplin..."

Neal almost growled at that. " Why get rid of me then?"

_Good question._

"Well....as you know, I will be retiring at the end of the year, this time for good I hope...and Peter will take over the division."

"So?" Neal snapped. He knew he was so close to being rude but he didn't care. Hughes didn't seem to mind either, which was very unusual. Neal felt an immense wave of nausea crawling down his ribcage. Whatever this was, and he had no idea on what was going on, sounded like a tragic mistake.

"So" Hughes continued "I am reorganizing the division so that Peter finds everything in order when he moves back in next week."

"And my transfer is part of that reorganization?" Neal asked with clenched teeth.

"I am afraid it is, Neal."

"What have I done, Sir?" Neal said, his voice a desperate moan, utterly breaking Hughes's heart.

_You havn't done anyting wrong Neal._

"What can I do? Is there something I need to change? I'm more than willing, ..." Neal almost choked at that.

_You could just stop being so beautiful. Maybe._

Neal stared at Hughes, narrowing his eyes. "Does Peter know about this?..I mean...I'm sure he wouldn't want me to leave...I'm sure he wants me in his team like before..."

_Oh, Neal. Of course he wants you, that's part of the problem actually._

"Your transfer..." Hughes sucked in a deep breath, wishing to be teleported somewhere else, in an enchanted alternate universe where FBI agents wouln't helplessly loose their sanity, let alone their heart, over their CIs.

"Yes?" Neal said, his fingers nervously threading locks of unruly dark hair.

"It is Peter's idea, not mine" Hughes admitted regretfuly.

There was a deafening silence all of a sudden. Neal felt his heart being torn apart in million of pieces around the room. And surely Hughes must've felt it too because he was instantly at Neal's side with a soothing hand on his shoulder.

"Are you ok, son? You look like you are going to pass out."

Neal gasped. Something, a glass possibly, was pushed into his sweating palms. "Drink this" Hughes said, walking back behind his desk.

"I am so very sorry, Neal, I know Peter is...I mean, was, ...your...." Hughes paused for a nanosecond, searching for the correct word.

_Best friend? Of course. Soulmate? Evidently. Surrogate father? Obviously. Lover? Absolutely._

Hughes couldn't track exactly when Caffrey and Burke had turned into CaffreyBurke. He just knew they had been dancing around each other from day one. There had been enough eye fucking between these two during conference meetings...God, sometimes Hughes wished they would just get a room and get it over with. Not to mention Peter's possessive/protective attitude whenever anything happened to Neal...Peter Burke behaved like Neal Caffrey was his and it was crystal clear to anyone in the vicinity that Peter Burke had no intention to share. Hughes remembered vividly Peter flying off to Cap Verde, leaving everything behind to bring Neal back where he belonged. Hughes suspected Cap Verde was where Peter and Neal had "the talk". But Peter had crossed too many lines, putting everything, his marriage, his carreer, his life, at risk. And Peter had said "enough". Peter's decision had been taken rationally, sitting in a prison cell.

_Alone._

Hughes didn't doubt for a second Peter was heartbroken. Peter's decision was as shaky as could be, especially if Neal managed to throw himself in Peter's arms, begging him to change his mind. Hughes reminded himself he had promised Peter this kind of scenario would never happen, not in a million years.

"Your partner" Hughes voiced out at last " and that the two of you were very close...but.."

"I don't get it!" Neal breathed " I mean I do in a sense after...God knows I felt guilty about the prison episode..but surely... I could still work in the division with another agent?"

Hughes was crestfallen. Neal wasn't making any of this easy. Neal was playing the "I am a stubborn obtuse brat" kind of guy.

_Okay, so far for the gentle smoothness, lets go for the direct approach._

"Neal" Hughes barked "Wake up and smell the coffee! Peter is coming back next Monday. He made it very clear to me that you need to be out of the office by then. Your transfer will be effective in 48 hours. Now, since you've done a great job with us, I've arranged for the Bureau to send you on a two weeks vacation. You can start packing and organize your new life."

"Oh" Neal whispered, staring at the floor and blinking back tears. "I get it now, Sir"

Hughes waited for Neal to compose himself. Surprisingly enough, it didn't take long. Neal looked Hughes straight in the eyes.

"Maybe we should discuss these opportunities you mentioned earlier?" He looked very calm, like opaque skies before a thunderstorm, these milliseconds full of silent birds and frozen animals, waiting for God's wrath to descend amongst the living. Hughes opened four files.

"Well, it seems you're quite hot on the transfer market, Neal. Obviously you could work for any FBI division in the US...all the rising stars in the Bureau would be happy to hire you as their consultant. But I thought you needed some fresh air...Interpol wants you. Our French friends also, it seems there are a lot of art crimes over there...Same with the Italians. I have to say that with your thorough knowledge of Italian antiques and paintings.... it looks like a match made in heaven. Good news is, you can pick up anything you like basically...I have enough connexions to give you exactly what you want. You could also start a career in the private sector. I have lots of friends there too."

_And Peter asked me to make sure you would get whatever pleases you._

Neal smiled. "Italy is fine by me Sir."

" Italy it will be then. You will be working with Colonel Raffaelle Moncino. He is at the head of TPC now. He is a friend of mine. You two will get along. You remember him don't you? He helped Peter..hmm....when...hmm.."

"When Peter was chasing me in Italy?" Neal laughed "Yeah, I remember him...TPC....our friends from the Tutela Patrimono Culturale..those were the days"

_Peter. Italy. The Rialto Bridge._

The way Peter had looked at him right before he jumped...Neal couldn't possibly think about that just now or he was going to curl in a weeping ball at Hughes's feet.

Bad Idea.

"Go home and start organize stuff" Hughes said. "I will make some calls in Italy. Rafaelle will be delighted. Italians are he best really for art crimes...TPC started in 1969 and there are more than 200 specialized Carabinieris working now in this unit. Amazing people."

Neal seemd lost in his thoughts.

"Are we done?" Hughes asked softly, "Because if we are, I'm calling Diana to remove your anklet"

Neal smiled again, his hand lingering on Hughes's desk. "Almost" he answered," I have one condition though"

"Condition?" Hughes choked with annoyance "Neal, I'm offering you everything on a plate, you don't get to dictate any conditions!"

Neal glared at Hughes." I will leave the office tonight for good, I will fly to Italy as soon as I finish packing...whatever I have to pack. But I want Agent Burke to explain me why he is kicking me out of the curb without even saying goodbye." Neal paused, out of breath. "And I think I deserve this explanation in person."

Hughes wasn't surprised in the least by this request. " What if Peter refuses to see you?"

Neal laughed again, anger pouring out of him like a sickening wave. " If he does...tell him.....forget it ok?....he will know...he always knows"

"You wouldn't do anything stupid Neal? " Hughes asked alarmed.

Neal stood up. "As you said, Sir, I am a free man. I served my time."

Half an hour later, Neal was off the street, en route for June with no anklet. Neal had been dreaming about his first moments of true freedom for ages. In his wildest dreams, he had never envisioned anything close to this level of desperation.

 

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"But surely, sweetheart, there must be a reason for all this? Don't you think?" June was appaled. They were sittng on the roof terrace with Mozzie. She couldn't bring herself to understand why Peter would do such a thing. "Mozzie?" What are your thoughts on this one?" She kept pouring her best Barolo in Neal's glass. Neal already had too much italian wine running in his veins to think straight but Mozzie seemed perfectly alert. The two of them, June and Mozzie, were watching Neal like he was going to break any second.

"Remember when I said.." Mozzie started, almost to himself " You and Peter.."

"Enjoy it while it lasts" Neal finished, looking at his empty glass. " You were right, Mozz...but I didn't see it coming...and I don't get it...we were so...I mean...we were so good together."

"Neal" he said softly, "I hate to say this...but...when was the last time you and the Suit had a real conversation?"

Mozzie had a point there, Neal thought. Peter had been very distant in court, Neal hugging him after the verdict, murmuring words of love. Peter just stared at him then. Neal had guessed Peter was too overwhelmed at the time to reciprocate. Still, Peter had always been so tactile in their relationship...maybe something was terribly wrong...

"And at your last visit in prison" Mozzie continued " You said Peter was different..."

Again, that was true. At the time of course, Neal had refused to see. He was so happy that day after James's capture. Things were looking good. Peter's lawyer was very confident. Neal was a bundle of joy, bouncing in Peter's cell " You are going to be released, Peter!!! And everything will go back to normal...and you and I will chase the bad guys...God, I've missed you...I can't wait..." Peter had looked at him, his mouth a thin, pensive line. "Neal" he had whispered, his voice unusually low, "Things will never be the same. We can't just rewind this and pretend nothing happened."

"I think the two of you need to sort things out" June said. "And if Peter doesn't see it that way, I will make sure he does". She pulled Neal into a warm embrace. " Just trust me, sweetheart, and please, go to bed. You need a rest."

"I'm not very optimistic" Mozzie admitted after departing with June from Neal's living room, "The Suit can be very stubborn."

June laughed. " Ah, but in the end, you see, Peter always goes for _no Neal_ and...Neal always gets what he wants anyway."

Mozzie shrugged. " June, from your mouth to God's ear.."

June smiled. " God has nothing to do with this Mozzie"

 

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Neal kept shifting restlessly in bed. He had vivid dreams of Peter's hands, caressing him, making him come, over and over again. He woke up at noon, disheveled and sweating. So much for June's Barolo, he thought. Neal jumped out of bed and run into the shower. The hot water provided no comfort to his over sensitized flesh and he was still hard as a rock when he came out. As he walked back towards the kitchen to prepare some coffee, he spotted a red light flashing on the nightstand. He leapt over the room, all ideas of italian roasted coffee forgotten for the time being, and grabbed his cell.

This afternoon. Your place. 5 pm.

Neal couldn't help from smiling. It seemed that Hughes had succeeded into shaking some senses into Peter Burke's wooden skull. That, at least, was something. He spent half the afternoon going over drawings and paintings and the other half trying on numerous items from his wardrobe. _No suit...too formal...black denim? Yes, that looked good. Sleeveless tee? Yes, that too. Peter always had a thing for bare shoulders....Ah and barefoot. Definitely. And stop behaving like a fourteen year old awaiting his crush._


	2. Adios

Peter Burke parked his Taurus alongside June's mansion at exactly 4.30 pm. He needed time to clear his confused mind before meeting with Neal. He was suffering from the worst jet lag he could remember. He had just landed at dawn the same day, from an idyllic island in the Carabbeans. Idyllic...except nothing had been quite idyllic...On the contrary. Peter had fled with El, straight after the verdict, in a desperate attempt to change her mind after the bombshell she had dropped in prison a few days before James's capture. She had absolutely refused to change her mind on the subject ever since.

_The subject._

Peter felt he ought to find another word to describe their future child. He had been toying with the idea for two months now and still, he referred to this child-to-be as "the subject". Not that the child had been conceived, yet. Peter had been astonished when El had put the idea on the table, so to speak.

"But, hon..you know I can't ..." he had said regretfuly.

"You can't..but I can... and I will."

"El? We discussed this and we put that idea at rest a long long time ago...you know I'm not...I mean I am not at ease with all this medical stuff...and it would be your child...not mine..not really...and I'm not sure I could love him...I know it's awfull of me to think that...but you and I always agreed on that...even before we got married.."

"I know; Peter, but..."

She had thrown herself in his arms at that point, a desperate mess he couldn't handle.

"Oh, Peter...during these last ten months...I spent so much time thinking....anything could happen to you and to Neal...I coud loose you..or him or even worse..the two of you...and I can't...I just can't..." She had started sobbing hysterically, breaking Peter's heart.

"But, hon...we don't really need a child..we ..huh.."

"We have Neal? And Satch? Peter? Is that what you were about to say?"

"Well..." Peter had lifted his hands.

"Hon, Neal is a grown man.." El had whispered.

"Not really. Sometimes he behaves like a three years old..sometimes he behaves like a teenager...sometimes-"

"Sometimes, he behaves like a man..especially in your bed, Peter" El had snapped.

"El?" he had said, his voice very gentle, "Is this what this is about? Neal? Neal and me?"

"No!" she had screamed, her eyes brimming with tears, "No, that's not it at all! I love Neal...hell I love Neal like a brother..he's family to me... you guys always had my blessing for...I mean for what the two of you are.." She had paused for a few seconds, out of breath and clearly highly distressed.

"So?" Peter had added "Why this ...now?"

"Don't you get it Peter?" She had squeezed his hand so tightly that Peter had winced with pain.

"No, El, clearly I don't, but I'm willing to listen to anything if that makes you happy-"

"Neal will always end up in trouble..that's who he is...and you will always run to rescue him...whatever the risks...for you, for your career, for us...."

"Hon, I promise you" Peter had begged.

"Don't make promises you can't hold Peter" she had hissed " that's who you are...and that's also why we both love you...because no matter what, you're so fucking reliable and strong and godamn perfect!". She had been unstoppable then, lashing out all her fears. "And I want you and I to be parents...I want you to raise our child, you will be a terriffic father Peter, you know that...and I want to stop freaking out each time Neal gets carried away in some tragic event....taking you down with him !"

"I'm not sure" Peter had whispered.

"I want a new family, Peter...and I don't see how Neal..as much as I love him, could fit into this new equation."

Of course, El had a point there. And frankly who was he to deny her anything? Especially after this horrendous ordeal. So far, Neal had been around to quench both their maternal and paternal instincts. Hell, sometimes looking after Neal was tremendously difficult..but he was such a lovable human being, anchoring the three of them in a semblance of family life. Most of the times at least.

"But, hon...Neal would never leave us if we tell him....on the contrary...you know Neal...he's so good with kids.."

"He will if you tell him it's non negociable."

Peter had laughed at that.

"Hon, Neal negociates for a living...and he is much better at it than the two of us...it will take him two minutes to convince you that he is the best big brother any of our kids could have-"

"Tell him a different story, Peter. Tell him I want the two of you to stop, tell him I can't stand it anymore, not since you spent almost a year in prison because of him...tell him what you want for Christ's sake, but just make it happen! Please..Peter"

She had gone up and called for the guard, leaving him in total shock.

Peter didn't sleep at all that night. And the following. And the one after that. He was so jaded he could hardly handle the trial. It was a good thing the Bureau, with Neal's assistance, had located James to bring him down. God knows what would have happened otherwise.

 

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Peter covered his face with the palm of his hands. Time was up. He closed the door of the Taurus repressing the urge to run to the nearest bar and drink five whisky in a row. He sensed Neal's life would be irrevocably wrecked by all this... Neal with a father sentenced for life and a mother god knows where..Neal who lived in his heart like a second heartbeat. Peter sighed. He hadn't been surprised when the first text in his cell phone at JFK twelve hours ago had been from Hughes.

Call me. ASAP.

Peter had waited to get home, unpacking in the laundry room, away from El.

"Reese? I gather it didn't go well.."

"Well, good morning to you too, Peter. And no, it didn't go well. What did you expect?" Hughes had breathed in his " you-really-fucked-up-everything" tone of voice Peter knew all too well. " Neal expressed the need to meet with you in person prior to accepting any transfer of any kind." Hughes had paused. "Frankly, Peter, I have to admit I don't blame him."

"And if I refuse?" Peter had asked, although he already knew the answer.

"Make an educated guess, Peter"

"He will fly off the handle and go back to the life?"

"Most certainly" Hughes had agreed.

"I'll talk to him. Where is he now?"

"How would I know?" Hughes had yelled. "He is off the anklet, that was part of the deal, remember?"

Peter had almost collapsed, right there, amidst shelves of clean towels and summer clothes.

"Peter?" Hughes's voice had been softer at that moment, " Don't be too harsh on the kid...he's already devastated."

 

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June was waiting for him when he rang the doorbell.

"Peter.." she whispered, " He is upstairs. I hope you came to make things right."

"I came, June.That's all I can promise for now " Peter said, ashamed of himself.

Neal was standing in the middle of the room like a statue when Peter stepped in. Peter's heart clenched as he noticed an ice bucket with Champagne on the dining table. Neal produced one of his fake smiles, and Peter would have given anyting to fix this, to mend Neal's shattered soul and bruised heart.

"Well, hello there, Agent Burke..or should I say _Special Agent Burke?"_

Peter immediately recognized the suave polyester voice which never boded well for the future. Neal was scrutinizing him, his eyes an unknown thing, aquamarine with anger. He lifted his chin, defiant, beautiful. Peter fought the urge to haul him against the table and kiss him senseless. That would have to wait. He felt a lump in his throat the size of the Empire State Building.

"Good evening, Neal."

Neal gestured towards the Champagne and started filling two flutes.

"Neal?" Peter said again, his voice anguished " Champagne? What's the occasion?"

Neal laughed.

"Oh, but we do have so much to celebrate, don't you think, Peter? Let's see...your freedom...your nomination at the head of the division...the removal of my anklet, maybe? Your choice." He handed Peter a flute. " This is pure perfection. Bollinger 2003, James Bond's favourite. A little too masculine for my taste...but I'm sure you'll enjoy it. I saved it for us a long time ago." He smiled, remembering Mozzie's rants a couple of hours ago.

"I think serving Bollinger 2003 for a break up is a real waste, _mon frère_ " Mozzie had grimaced when Neal had carefully picked the bottle in the cellar.

Peter slowly disposed the flute on the table before closing the distance between the two of them. He rested his hand on Neal's shoulder.

"Stop it Neal" he murmured.

Neal shoved Peter aside. He pulled a chair alongside the table and sat on it backwards. It was a gesture so un-Caffrey like that Peter's throat constricted.

"So" Neal said, his voice saccharine smooth, "In the interest of full disclosure, enlighten me, please?" He paused for two seconds gripping the chair, "Does the entire office knows about this, Peter? Did you..issue something in writing? A statement, maybe? _Because it looks like I've missed the memo._ "

Peter shuffled his feet, ducking his head. "It's complicated" he grumbled.

"Try me" Neal snapped.

"Hmm" Peter started.

"Hmm?" Neal parroted, narrowing his eyes. " Hmm? Really?"

Neal sucked in a deep breath and raised his hands in the air as if poising them to introduce a speech. " After 20 months and two weeks, you decided to dump me, is that correct? Wait, I'm not sure that's fully accurate, see? Because I dont know when to start this...this thing between us....Technically, the first time we fucked was in Cap Verde. So I would assume this...relationship started 20 months ago. But then, let me think....the first time you barged into my place at 2 am to kiss me after this disastrous assignement with Agent Rice....that was more than four years ago. And when exactly did you start fucking me in your head, Peter? Was it that day in Venice, on the Rialto Bridge? Because that was more than ten years ago."

Peter remained silent. A derisive snort came out from the other end of the room.

"Well, it seems I'm going to be doing all the talking after all." Neal continued.

"Wait" Peter pleaded "I just...when I was in prison I...I decided that after more than ten years.....I should.."

" Move on and write a new chapter of my life" Neal interrupted, his voice dark with fury. "Peter, seriously?"

"And I will be running the division now, so...this thing...this thing between us..."

"Peter" Neal groaned "This is bullshit and you know it."

"It's El" Peter blurted out, at last.

Neal stood up his eyes wide and full of pain. Peter instantly met him half way.

"El?..." Neal stared at the floor, avoiding Peter's gaze " El...Oh...I see..."

And yes, Neal could understand. That he was _a dangerous person with a bad influence_ , always taking Peter off limits to dangerous grounds. That they were three of them in this marriage and possibly El had had enough of it, especially after the prison episode. That El, wonderful -kind open-minded El-had decided she wanted her husband all for herself, for a change.

"I'm sorry, Neal" Peter whispered, his thumb slowly tracing Neal's jaw line. " I'm so sorry.."

"So? Break up sex now?" Neal chirped, all bravado while Peter pulled him into a fierce embrace.

Peter could feel Neal's eyelashes ghosting in the crook of his neck, the tremor in his shoulders a promise of tears to come. Neal was fisting Peter's shirt,desperate to be held, desperate to be loved.

"My beautiful, beautiful, Neal" Peter breathed, sliding his hands up and down Neal's back "please....please don't make a scene about this...and no...I mean I don't think we should..." Neal was so warm, pliant in his arms, Neal was always so warm...and God, but he wanted to taste Neal again, to be lost inside him, one last time.

_Peter Burke you have a sick twisted mind._

Neal bit back a sob, his lower lip trembling on Peter's collarbone. "Please..Peter..I want....I need..."

Yes. Oh yes.

And just like that, Peter scooped Neal, carrying him to the bedroom, Neal nestling himself in Peter's arms like he belonged there.

After that, everything was easy.

 

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Peter was staring at the ceiling, El sprawled all over him. He couldn't sleep, despite the long hot shower and the hot milk.

"It's okay" he had told El, barging into his own home at 5 am, smelling like sex and Neal. " Everything is fine. Neal is leaving to Italy. We broke up. I'm good. Neal is fine".

El knew better.

There was nothing on Peter's mind right now except Neal.

_Do you have any idea how in love I am with you, Peter?_

Neal, shivering, offering himself like a precious gift to Peter's talented hands. Neal, vulnerable and slightly frightened, " I haven't...not since last time." Peter shushing and kissing him, preparing him, opening him for an inordinate amount of time, driving Neal insane with need. Neal, moaning, wrapping his legs around Peter's waist, begging to be fucked.

_Jesus._

Neal's fingers, gripping the sheets when the pain of first entrance had hit him. Peter's lips on Neal's shoulders, whispering words like _baby, perfect, mine,_ to make it better. Neal bucking his hips at every stroke, looking at him from under those ridiculously long lashes, like there was no one else in the world. Neal, murmuring his name, as Peter fucked him, sweet and deep, riding them both to an earth shattering orgasm. Peter, possessive, incoherent almost, mumbling inarticulate sentences, such as "promise me..promise me you'll never let anyone do this to you, ever." Neal, promising everything, anything.

_God. Nothing on earth should feel this good, nothing on earth should feel this right._

Neal after, his eyes clouded with fear, pleading in Peter's mouth " will you still be here.... when I wake up?" Neal asleep, curled like a crescent moon on the sex-tangled sheets. Peter waking him gently, his hands like butterflies on the velvety skin. "Neal, baby..I have to go." Neal clinging to him, their legs entwined, their hearts fused and miserable. Neal, crying " you have to say it first, Peter, because I won't."

_Adios, Neal._

In the end, Neal refusing to look at him.

_Farewell, Peter._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yee...I'm reposting this after such a long time...fun to see Peter with the Taurus...lol


	3. Origamis

**March 2015 FBI Offices**

Samantha Cornell, the new probie, climbed the stairs to Peter Burke's office.

"Agent Burke? I've found this at the bottom of one of my drawers...I guess it belonged to-"

Peter lifted his eyes from the file he was studying, instantly recognizing the initials "NC" on the small cardbox.

" Throw it away" he barked, his mouth twitching. " And close the door, I'm busy here, Agent Cornell."

Samantha walked back to her desk where she was met by Clinton Jones.

"Don't" he said, grabbing the box and carefully storing it into his own drawer, " I will keep this, if you don't mind."

Samantha Cornell stared at him, her eyes inquisitive. " Something precious, Agent Jones?" she mused.

" Yes"

Samantha Cornell knew Agent Jones well enough not to push further. Agent Burke's behavior was always strange whenever Neal Caffrey's name was mentioned. She didn't understand why. It was worse than an omerta. No one was allowed to say the "N" word, ever. Sometimes, though, when she had drinks with Agent Berrigan and Agent Jones, discussing a difficult case, Diana or Clinton would exchange glances and mutter kryptic letters like " WWND" .

_What would Neal do._

"But they were friends, once..I mean I saw the video of the conference...the one about _faith_ _and trust..."_

" Indeed they were, Agent Cornell" Clinton Jones sighed. "But that was a long time ago."

 

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" You're such a romantic sap, aren't you Clinton?" Diana laughed, whilst organizing her files for tomorrow's meeting. It was late, time to head home.

" Spying on me, Agent Berrigan?"

"Yup. Why do you want to keep them? Peter would have a fit if he knew"

Even though he hadn't seen them in a while, Clinton Jones was still startled with their beauty. They came in all sorts of shapes and colors..

 _Origamis_.

Of course, to a non Caffrey expert, they just looked like bits and pieces of paper. But for Clinton Jones, who had spent a vast amount of time deciphering Neal's complex psyche, they were the most beautiful poetic langage ever. He let his fingers linger on a yellow swan. This one belonged to Diana. He, on the other hand, was rewarded with pale blue butterflies. Hughes got hats, Sara and Alex tulips. Jones suspected Peter owned his own private collection of these little treasures. Neal never told anyone about that......He remembered Neal's elegant fingers crafting those little jewels. It was fascinating to watch. They had a various range of meanings from - I love you- to - I like you- not to mention - I'm sorry- and - I hate your breathing guts.

 _I hate your breathing guts_ , usually came under the form of a black skull.

" Yeah" Diana said, scrutinizing the black skull above Jones's shoulder " Kramer's. Thank God I had time to remove it from Caffrey's file before I handed it to him..."

But then again, things were not that simple with Neal. Black origamis could also mean other things like - danger- or - I have a problem- .

Jones was fairly fluent in origami langage. To be frank, he was probably the best of the Bureau. It had been one of those nights when Neal had accepted to open up and discuss personal stuff. They were sharing vodka shots in a trendy bar in Manhattan. After the fifth shot, Neal had spilled a great deal about origamis. Jones had locked everything in the back of that meticulous mind of his. You never knew, it could come handy, one day or another.

_What are you up to these days, Caffrey? Do you miss us sometimes? I wish you were here, still._

 

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**Venice. September 2015.**

 

"Do you happen to know this taxi driver personally? I do hope so, Neal because I'm not prepared to just jump into any.."

Mozzie was frantic, pacing in front of the Palazzo, waiting for the vaporetto. They had spent the week end in Venice, reminiscing about the old days with Kate. June, wonderful June, owned a lovely apartement off the Grand Canal. Neal had settled into a routine of some sort.

Work in Rome at the TPC, week ends in Venice, where he could walk endlessly, visit museums, loiter in antique shops.

_And remember._

" Yes, I do know him. And don't be so paranoid, Mozz, this is Venice, no government spying on you, no agents lurking in the background...no-"

" Well, we're never too sure aren't we? The Armani Suits are quite talented, so I've heard" Mozzie hissed " You don't need to come with me by the way, I'm perfectly capable of boardind on my own, thank you very much."

Neal escalated the stairs of the vaporetto with his usual feline grace. " I'm coming with you, Mozz. And I suspect you know why"

Mozzie frowned.

" Come on, let's sit down. You have to share Mozz...that's what friends are for"

"Neal...what makes you think.?"

" Mozz, I know you like the back of my hand. You have something on your mind that you've been avoiding to tell me since day one. Now spill."

Mozzie fidgeted on his seat, admiring one last time the orange glow of the sun over The Grand Canal. "Mon frère....I'm not sure you'll be thrilled about this..."

" Mozz" Neal answered patiently, " That's for me to decide, don't you think?"

" Humm" Mozzie breathed reluctantly.

" Okay" Neal ventured " It's about Agent Burke, right?" Ever since he had left NYC, Neal never allowed himself to pronounce the word "Peter".

It was just plain impossible.

" Hmm....yes and no....but more definitely yes than no....."

"Mozz?" Neal laughed, rolling his eyes " It's okay...I mean, really..."

" I think I know why you and the Suit..." Mozzie blurted out.

Neal stopped breathing. Even after all these months, their separation still tore his guts apart. A dozen different emotions washed over his features before he could look Mozzie straight in the eye.

"See? I told you" Mozzie ranted. " Well, nevermind. I ran into Mrs Suit the other day."

_Elizabeth. Another forbidden word._

" She is expecting, Neal"

"Expecting what?" Neal retorted, absentmindedly.

Mozzie jumped on his feet, colliding with the rooftop of the vaporetto.

" Neal, don't be so obtuse! The Suits are reproducing themselves...at last, pretty soon there will be a Mini-Suit at Casa Burke"

Neal felt his heart being torn out of his chest, it hurt so much he nearly passed out right there, in the Laguna.

" What?" he gasped in disbelief, " but that's impossible...Peter can't..."

" Well, Mrs Suit can, with the help of modern science, of course" Mozzie shrugged. "And when you think about it, it makes perfect sense..After all these tragic events, Mrs Suit craved for a new family...a more classical type of family.... _et voilà_ "

_I thought I was family._

"You don't get it, Moz, he lied to me...we said no more lies and yet...the last time we...the last time we saw each other he lied to me. That's...that's.." Neal was speechless.

" For the record, The Suit didn't really lie. He gave you his own version of the truth...it was all because of Mrs Suit, even though _the ménage à trois_ was not the real issue." Mozzie pointed out. He had known all along Neal would freak out about this, and left to his own devices, he would have buried the whole story altogether for as long as possible. But Neal liked to dig into touchy subjects, even if it meant licking his wounds forever.

"Please...Neal...you have a good life here...some nice friends... and you're doing great with the Armani Suits. Don't ruin everything okay? Don't spend your time going over "what if" scenarios. It's pointless and you know it."

"Grazzie mille" Neal said, jumping on the pier at Marco Polo Airport. They walked in complete silence for fifteen minutes between the pier and the terminal.

"Neal? " Mozzie had to ask " would you have left? If Peter had told you.."

Neal remained silent.

" Okay" Mozzie said "we both know the answer, right?"

" Still" Neal murmured, gritting his teeth " It's wrong.."

" Neal" Mozzie sighed, hugging him at the immigration desk, " Sometimes....lying is better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene with Jones and the origamis was the first one I wrote. It inspired the whole fic.


	4. Massimo

**September 2015**

 

"Mozzie Mozzie Mozzie..." Neal was chanting over the phone," I'm fine, really"

" I know that tone, I know that voice mon frère..." Mozzie laughed.

Neal smiled to himself. " Mozz...there is nothing to tell"

" You do know it is useless to hide anything from me. I have my ways....and I will find out, eventually"

"Okay...well....I think I'm a little bit....maybe...sort of...in a relationship."

There, he'd said it. Somehow it helped making it real.

" Oh...Neal..a little bit? Okay...so you're head over heels....she must be quite remarkable...Italian women are like that"

"Mmmm" Neal said, " remarkable, yes. In so many ways-"

" But?" Mozzie added helpfully.

 _" Heisatwentysomethingartstudent_ " Neal breathed out in a rush.

Mozzie went silent.

" An art student? Neal.?..that can't be good, listen-"

"No" Neal almost yelled " No....please...and before you ask.. ...God Moz, I havn't felt so happy since...I can't even remember since when..." Neal was babbling, getting in a restless state. It was not worth even trying to have a reasonable conversation with him at the moment.

_Later perhaps._

"Okay....okay.....would you at least tell me a little more? How did the two of you meet by the way? Were you lurking in art classes going undercover as a professor or something?"

"Not exactly... it's a long story...and I don't want to discuss this over the phone"

" Neal" Mozzie said, slightly offended, "you are using one of the burners I gave you-"

"Still, I don't want to...not now anyway. Next time you visit me...I'll tell you everything, I promise"

"Fine. Could you just give me a name at least?"

Neal didn't answer straight away. When he did, Mozzie's heart sank.

" It's complicated, Moz"

"All the more reasons to tell me, mon frère"

" Okay..but you have to promise not to yell at me"

" I won't" Mozzie said cheerfuly.

_Breathe in, breathe out, you can do this, Caffrey._

" Hmm, very well then...his name is Massimo Lorenzini"

Mozzie's gasp was audible over the phone.

"Neal...you are kidding me right? Please? Neal?"

" You see..this is why I didn't want to tell you anything" Neal blurted out. " You never seem to approve of my love interests in the first place-"

"Neal, moving from an FBI Agent straight to the Italian Mafia is rather _drastic_ , don't you think? Can't you just..I don't know...pick someone remotely normal, for a change?"

" Moz? Let's drop it for now okay? I don't want to argue with you. Give me some overseas news. How's everyone? June? Di? Clin-"

" They named him Peter George " Mozzie snapped. " I thought you would want to know."

Neal closed his eyes, his fingers clawing the cell phone.

" When?" he whispered, speechless.

" He is three months old. You can still send a present if you want"

" Why didn't you tell me Moz?"

" You didn't ask"

_Because if I never talked about it, I could still pretend it never happened._

Neal could feel the headache slowly rising behind his right eye. It was definitely time to stop this conversation.

" Listen, I'd better go. It's seven am here and I need to get ready for work. When are you flying over?"

" Next wednesday. We can stay in Rome this time. I'm dying to see your new place...and your office"

Neal switched the burner off.

_Peter George Burke junior._

Gentle arms came circling his waist from behind.

" You're upset, Caro Mio", Massimo breathed into his ear, sending shivers down Neal's spine. "Here, let me take you to bed. It's early still."

" I have to go, get a shower and.."

Long, delicate fingers massaging his scalp. " And you have a headache. Let me take care of that, Caro Mio".

Neal swallowed, leaning into the caress. God, it felt so good to be cherished like this. " I'm so tired, Massimo...sometimes I wonder what you're doing with an old man like me.."

" Nonsense" Massimo chuckled. " You're not old. You're perfect". Neal turned round to face his new lover, amazed as always by Massimo's unconditional support.

" You really believe that?"

_You should stop being so fucking unsecure about yourself, Caffrey. And you should stop fishing for some compliments about your looks. Thats what old guys do._

" Mmm, yeah, I do. I'm dying to show you how gorgeous I think you are. Hell, you could be modelling for my art class next week. We're supposed to study nude men and women...screw that. I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you". Massimo was fully aroused by now, his mouth wet and hungry on Neal's collarbone.

" Massimo, I'm really exhausted" Neal said hesitantly.

" I know. Just bed. No sex....and let me do all the hard work. You, my friend, need to be pampered."

 

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**A week later.**

 

Mozzie really liked Neal's new place. The furniture, like the wine cellar, was exquisite. September in Rome was definitely marvelous. Compared to NYC where the weather was already slightly chilly, Rome was in full summer mode still. Neal had rolled the sleeves of his white linen shirt and Mozzie wished he could do the same, except he had only brought autumn clothes with him. Mozzie had been listening to Neal for more than an hour, without interrupting. What he had learned about the encounter between Neal and Massimo simply terrified him. Nothing good could come out of this.

_Ever._

Neal had finished talking and his eyes were searching for Mozzie's reaction. He put his wine glass down.

" So, Moz...what do you think?"

Mozzie could tell Neal was nervous. He tried to elaborate about something nice to say, something that wouldn't send Neal through the rooftop straight away.

Neal sighed.

" Your body langage says it all....Moz."

" Neal" Mozzie said softly " Havn't you been down that route already? This is like the Kate story, only ten times worse because..."

Neal started pacing in the living room.

" But he loves me Moz! I feel it, I know it , damn, I've never been so sure about-"

" Come on, Neal, he doesn't love you. He loves François d'Arcourt, alleged son of Philippe d'Arcourt, the famous Parisian gallerist, worldwide specialist in Modern Art. Do I need to go on?"

Neal winced at the thought.

" Mon frère, this is a recipe for disaster. Trust me. Just think about it. You walked into this relationship with your eyes wide open. He obviously didn't. Surely, you know where this is going, right?"

Mozzie thought it was about time to open a third bottle of red wine. Neal was already wasted, his head resting on the armchair of the sofa.

" Just give me a break, Moz"

" Honestly, mon frère....I have a feeling this is not going to play well. Especially the - _by the way, my real name is Neal Caffrey. I'm a reformed felon, former CI at the FBI, now undercover with the Armani suits to bring your family down, since it appears you guys are fencing five masterpieces to ransom a French museum-_ part.

" But, I'm pretty sure I'm in love, Mozzie" Neal said, all miserable and beautiful.

" As if that changes anything" Mozzie muttered to himself, pouring two glasses of wine and processing everything Neal just confessed.


	5. Undercover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a few sentences in french.  
> Translation will be with the end notes.

**Rome, Trastevere District. Offices of the Tutela Patrimono Culturale, 3 months earlier.**

 

Colonel Rafaelle Mancino was thrilled. This could well be the peek of his career, if handled properly of course. This could also be the perfect moment to start using Neal Caffrey's undercover talents. Ever since Reese Hughes has offered him Neal Caffrey on a plate, he had been dying to witness that perfect, smooth, intelligent creature in motion. Rafaelle was having lunch with Neal in his private dining room. He made a small note to himself to compliment the new cook on the linguine alla vongolese. Altough vongolese was a venetian dish and not a roman one, Rafaelle enjoyed them immensely. Neal seemed to be enjoying himself too, which was good news, since no one ever saw him eating these days.

" Thank you so much, Colonel, for such an amazing lunch" Neal grinned, his fork playing with his second helping of tiramisu." This is trully delicious. I shouldn't be eating so much.."

" Ah" Rafaelle said, refilling both of their glasses, " I'm glad you seem to enjoy Italian cuisine at last....your collegues told me you hardly eat anything...that's unhealthy. And you never hang around...you never go out...that's also very unhealthy. Rome has a lot to offer....."  
Rafaelle was surprised such a good looking man would still be single. He suspected Neal Caffrey never really moved on after Kate Moreau. Or he tried, but must've had his heart broken in NYC. Maybe a FBI female collegue? Or worse, a mark during an undercover op? There was such a tragic aura around the boy... No family, so it seemed....Reese Hughes had been very elliptic about the reasons for Neal's transfert. Neal was highly secretive about that anyway. Hell, Neal was secretive about everything, except the cases he was dealing with.

"So, Neal.." Rafaelle leaned back in his chair and opened the thick file sitting on the side of the table since the beginning of their lunch. Neal closed his eyes, reveling in the correct pronounciation of his name.

_Neal._

Colonel Mancino obviously had a gift for foreign intonations. Unlike all the other Agents, he didn't say it the European way - Nil - but the American way - Neal -.. His deep voice, hoarse with whisky and cigarettes, reminded Neal of Peter's bedroom voice. Neal felt awkwardly turned on.

_I really need to get laid anytime soon._

Luckily, Colonel Rafaelle Mancino seemed blissfully unaware of Neal's erratic thoughts. He handed Neal a couple of photos. Neal frowned.

" Alberto Cavallieri? The Modern Art collectioneur?"

Rafaelle Moncino beamed with pleasure.

"Himself. He bought a Palazzo in Venice. Wants to create a museum that will surpass François Pinault's Punta Della Dogana and Palazzo Grassi"

Neal shrugged.

" That's gonna prove to be difficult.....François Pinault is really the big shot in Modern Art these days.."

" Alberto thinks it's a disaster....a French billionaire in Venice.... Says the Italians should be ashamed of themselves...I suspect it's more of a contest between billionaires than a true love of Art, though...but here it is."

Neal was intrigued.

" Seems to me this guy is a perfectly honest citizen, Colonel. Why do we want to bring him down?"

" We don't" Rafaelle paused. " We are looking into one of his closest friends.This man there."

" Guiseppe Lorenzini? Former Don of Cosa Nostra? " Neal couldn't believe what he was hearing. " But he is reformed...I mean after his son was murdered in the US ..."

Everyone knew about this tragic story. It made the headlines for weeks. The Lorenzinis were a wild bunch. Guiseppe, Capo di Capi of the Sicilian Mafia was blessed with two sons. The eldest, Francesco, was still alive in Italy with his father. The youngest, Enzo, grauduated from law school, Harvard and Yale, top of his class, and decided he would become a lawyer to fight organized crime. He was brutally murdered by his own family, the US branch of the Lorenzinis, established in NYC and Chicago. His body was found in the Hudson River, his feet in cement, the usual Mafia style. After that, Guiseppe decided to step out of Cosa Nostra. That was more than ten years ago.

" He is reformed....but we have suspicions as regards his eldest son. We believe he moved from classical Mafia activities to something more lucrative and discreet"

" Such as art crime?" Neal asked, suddenly fully interested.

" Yes. Artnapping, to be fully accurate", Rafaelle said, with a sad expression on his face.

Artnapping seemed to be the new trend in terms of art crimes, especially in Italy and in France. The stolen art was hidden somewhere in a cache untill the owner was willing to pay a ransom. The insurance companies were fully aware of this system. They even sometimes advised their client to pay the ransom rather than involve the police. The ransom was often less expensive than what the insurance companies would have to pay the client anyway. Neal had a thorough knowledge on the matter since Sara kept bragging about it when they had an affair in NYC. Artnapping was more frequent with private collectioneurs, yet sometimes museums would accept to pay ransoms too. In the end, what mattered, was that the piece, whatever it was, would come back where it belonged.

" Before we go on with this op, you need to tell me something, Neal" Rafaelle said, sipping his espresso. " Is your French still as perfect as it was when I chased you with Agent Burke between Venice and la Côte d'Azur?"

 _" Bien sûr" *_ Neal laughed, his eyes mischievous _" Je parle très bien français...même si cela fait longtemps que je ne pratique plus" *_ .  
In fact, the last time he had spoken French was ages ago, undercover with Peter and a bunch of french hookers...but that was something he wasn't about to share with his new boss.

"Good" Rafaelle said, " Because you are going to need your French...a little bit at least."

Neal was extremely interested now.

" Tell me more" he said, shifting through the photos.

" I guess you must be familiar with these?" Rafaelle asked.

"Let's see..hmmm...Picasso, Modigliani, Matisse, Braque." Neal felt his heart accelerating " Hang on...are we talking about-"

" Precisely" Rafaelle said.

" The Museum of Modern Art 2010 heist in Paris? My God, this is huge...but the investigation so far lead to the conclusion that the fence panicked and trashed the art in a dumpster...such a tragedy", Neal was almost dancing on his chair.

" Well, that's true...but I don't believe that and neither does the french police by the way...I believe the art is hidden somewhere and that it will surface pretty soon with a ransom."

" You think The Lorenzinis are hidding the art?" Neal asked, his eyes wide with excitement.

" Yes, I do...but so far we've been unable to prove it..this is why we would like to send you undercover and dig some info for us."

_Undercover. Real life again._

" I'm in" Neal enthused. " When do I start?"

Colonel Mancino couldn't refrain from smiling. This was exactly what Reese had predicted.

_"The impulse control of a five year old with a compulsive tendency to forget about rules and disciplin....but very talented."_

" Reese Hughes told me you were the best in undercover ops...except you tend to bend the rules sometimes and you put yourself in dangerous situations...I don't want that to happen...am I making myself clear, Neal?"

" I'll behave" Neal said, " I promise."

" I'm glad to hear that. Let's move to the conference room downstairs. You'll get prepped by the team. I'll be in the conference room too."

Ten minutes later, Neal was surrounded by a whole team of Carabinieris. Dozens of photos were displayed on the table. They were half through the slides and Neal's brain was already packed with facts, issues and infos. The case was absolutely fascinating. Neal could feel the adrenalin pumping in his veins. This was exactly what he needed just now.

" You will be going in as François d'Arcourt, son of the famous Parisian gallerist Philippe d'Arcourt -"

Neal threw his pen on the table.

" Come on guys! With all due respect...Philippe d'Arcourt doesn't have a son. His daughter is running the business with him. Philippe d'Arcourt initiated Alberto Cavallieri to Modern Art . He has been advising him and buying for his collection for more than ten years...they are close friends..how is this supposed to be even remotely possible?"

Rafaelle Moncino stepped in.

" Love, my dear friend. Love makes everything possible"

" Love?" Neal asked, completly taken aback " what-"

" François fell in love with the wrong kind of girl when he was in his early twenties. Philippe, being slightly narrow- minded, as French aristocrats tend to be sometimes, begged him to drop the girl. She was, to quote your father's words - _une roturière intrigante *-_ interested in the family fortune."

Neal narrowed his eyes, his mouth slightly curving.

" So...wait, I chose the girl instead of-"

" You did. And you paid for it. You were kicked out of the family and desinherited. When you stepped out of the appartment Boulevard Saint Germain on that bright spring morning fifteen years ago, your father told you he never wanted to see you again as long as he lived."

Neal smiled, despite of himself.

" I guess it makes sense in a way that I would..I mean that _François_ would do such a romantic thing....I hope she was worth it"

" She most certainly was" Rafaelle said, handing Neal a couple of photos.

Neal felt his knees go week. Here he was, close ups after close ups, captured in his golden youth, kissing, whispering, holding hands with Kate Moreau. He gasped, his head spinning.

" Are you ok with this, Neal?" Rafaelle asked kindly " we can change that part if it's too much for you...we just thought it would be easier to pretend being a heartbroken widow if...nevermind. Guys, let's drop this. We'll find you another wife, Neal."

Neal bit his lip.

" No, no. I get it. It's ok. I was just...surprised. All this brings back memories that I left behind a long time ago. I've moved on. It's ok. So, Kate is dead. Is this why my father suddenly takes me back at the age of 38? And asks me to help run the gallery?"

" Not exactly" the Carabinieri in charge of the d'Arcourt part of the briefing added helpfuly " In fact, Philippe's wife, your mother Françoise, you were named after her, developed a fatal brain tumor two years ago. She recently passed away. She insisted you and your father would forget about the past. She wanted to see you before -"

Neal felt a lump in his throat. This case was proving to be more difficult than he thought.

" Before she died" he whispered.

" Neal? " Rafaelle was scrutinizing him, a thin line of worry on his forehead, " Do you wish to take a short break before we move to the second part-"

" Yes..yes I would" Neal said, relieved.

He walked out of the conference room, his legs still shaky.

_Get a grip, Caffrey. It's just a case. It's business._

" Colonel" the second Carabinieri in charge of the Lorenzini part of the briefing asked " Are you sure it's ok to send him on this kind of operation? He seems -"

Rafaelle Mancino clenched his jaws.

" Yes. I'm sure. It's just a lot for him to take all at ounce. You havn't witnessed Neal Caffrey in action. I have. And believe me, I never forgot about it, even though it was more than ten years ago. I was with Agent Burke that day when he jumped.... just trust me on this one guys. He'll do the job. If anyone can find these paintings, it's him"

Neal chose that precise moment to walk back in the conference room, all composed and smiling.

" So? What's next?" he said, chin up. " What is François d'Arcourt supposed to be doing exactly? And how am I to become best buddy with The Lorenzinis and sneak around in their home to see if they have masterpieces locked up somewhere in their basement?"

 _That's my boy,_ Rafaelle thought.

" You will be helping Alberto Cavallieri to reorganize his collection. There are pieces he wants to sell. He is also looking for new artists. You'll be buying for him too. You'll be teaming with the interior decorators of the Palazzo to decide which pieces should be exposed and where.That's the easy, fun part of the job" Rafaelle said.

" Incidently" Neal ventured, " I gather Philippe d'Arcourt is fully on board with this, I mean he knows about this prodigal son thing doesn't he?"

" Of course. The French police briefed him. This is a joint effort we're doing here. Philippe is giving us a hand. One of the stolen paintings belonged to him. He donated the Modigliani to the museum a few months before it was stolen. As soon as you get out of this room, Philippe is going to meet Alberto Cavallieri at his gallery in Paris. He is supposed to show him new pieces anyway. He will tell him about you."

" He better be convincing" Neal shrugged. " Do I get to meet my alleged father? "

" Most certainly. He will be at the Gala next week, introducing you to Alberto Cavallieri's team."

" The Gala?" Neal asked, his brows furrowing.

" Yes, Alberto is celebrating the end of the renovation. The Palazzo will be open to the public in twelve months. In the meantime, you are supposed to help, as I said earlier, with the collection. The Gala is not the real opening, just for Alberto's friends. There will be more than three hundred guests nevertheless. Your father, of course, will have you put on the guest list. The Lorenzinis will be there."

" I see" Neal was lost in his thoughts.

" Neal?" Rafaelle said," I need to liaise with the French police for my weekly meeting on this case. Is there anything you need to ask me before I leave you in the hands of the team here? They have prepared everything you need to know on the d'Arcourt family, the gallery, the artists they represent-"

" Believe me Colonel" Neal laughed " There aren't a lot of things I'm not aware of about the d'Arcourt gallery.."

Rafaelle Mancino smiled fondly.

" Do I even want to know why ?"

" No, Colonel" Neal chuckled " You really don't". The Carabinieris around the table rolled their eyes. Caffrey could be unbearable sometimes.

" So" Neal sighed " I'm representing the gallery, I'm buying and selling, discovering new artists...and what about our Mafia friends?"

" This is your entry point into the Lorenzini family" the second Carabinieri added.

" More photos?" Neal said, clearly amused.

The boy, because he was a boy still, not a man quite yet, was devastingly handsome. Sandy hair with almond shapes eyes, the deepest shade of blue Neal had ever seen. There was something vaguely familiar about the jaw line and the curve of the lips. Neal couldn't put a finger on it.

" Pretty" he mused, " Who is he?"

" Massimo. Guiseppe Lorenzini's youngest son"

" He certainly doesn't look like the rest of the family-"

" That's because he was adopted."

" Adopted?" Neal whispered. " That's-"

" Not uncommon over here with Cosa Nostra. He could be the son of a deceased friend, a member of the family with a tragic fate...it happens. Dons are supposed to protect all their Underboss and relatives. Altough Guiseppe has retired from the organization he never went _repentito_. He never helped the police, never betrayed Cosa Nostra. Word on the street is that he still applies the rules of the organization in his household. This boy, Massimo, was adopted about five years ago. We don't really know where he comes from, except from the fact that he had a British passeport when he entered Italy for the first time."

" How old is he?" Neal asked, because he had to.

" Twenty. Will be turning twenty one at the end of the year. He is an art student. Very talented, so it seems. He is studying at La Villa Médicis. He wants to be a sculptor. Guiseppe is besotted with this boy. He would do anything to help promote his talent and his future artistic career. Your father already met him, trough Alberto, of course. Your father seems to think he his quite gifted, by the way."

" Do you happen to have some of his work-"

"Yes. Here. These are the two pieces exposed in the gardens of the Lorenzini residence."

" He is into gigantic...outdoor...isn't it a bit presumptuous for- "

Neal stopped talking.

" Woaw. That's something. I mean...waow. And he is only twenty. My God. These are quite stunning."

" We agree" the Carabinieri said. " Your job is to become friends with Massimo. He will be very enclined to do so because of -"

" My irresistible charm?" Neal grinned.

There was a roar of laughter in the conference room.

" Yes, that too...but mainly because of who you are, and all of your father's connections in the glamorous world of Modern Art."

 

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The morning after, Mozzie sneaked out to buy fresh bred . They both needed breakfast after all the wine.

" Moz? " Neal yawned, sauntering in the kitchen " you didn't..I mean I was completly wasted yesterday night wasn't I ?"

Mozzie rolled his eyes. "I didn't what, my friend?"

Neal was fully erect, his hands clenched around his first cup of espresso.

" You didn't give me any news. I remember you said you had diner at the Burke's with Di, Jones and June before you left NYC. How's everyone?"

" Do you want scrambled eggs with smoked salmon?" Mozzie chirped, diving into the refridgerator. " I see you have everything handy-"

" I'm...hmm really not that hungry" Neal moaned, his eyes unfocused.

" They're fine. Everyone is fine. Elizabeth asked about you. I said I was going to visit and they all say hi.."

" What did Elizabeth cook for you guys?" Neal asked,sulking defiantly " She is _such_ a good cook"

" We hade homemade cheese soufflé, osso bucco a la milanese and charlotte aux framboises." Mozzie answered, " Neal, is this really what you want to talk about?"

" Fuck you, Mozzie" Neal hissed, throwing his cup in the kitchen sink before departing for the bedroom.

Mozzie choose to remain silent.

He wouldn't tell Neal about the conversation he had with June while the chauffeur was driving them to Brooklyn. He wouldn't tell Neal Elizabeth was depressed.

" I think it's the baby blues" he had told June " I've read books-"

" Nonsense" June had retorted. " It has nothing to do with the baby blues and everything to do with Peter"

He wouldn't tell Neal about the dinner either. Especially that awkward moment when Clinton had blurted out " This baby is so beautiful, Elizabeth, he looks just like -". Thank God Diana had kicked Jones from under the table. " He looks just like you, Elizabeth" Jones had added hastily.

He wouldn't dream about sharing Peter's comment - this was probably the worst part- " Of course he does. El picked a biological father that could have been her identical twin". Elizabeth had left the table at that point, rushing up the stairs to lock herself in the master bedroom. It took more than half an hour for Mozzie and June to calm her and bring her back downstairs.

" You need to give him time" June had said. " You have to remember it wasn't his idea in the first place...but I'm sure it will work out, in the end."

" Suit" Mozzie had sighed before leaving Casa Burke, " You do realize _you are_ the father, right?"

_No, Mozzie wouldn't talk at all._

_Sometimes, things were better left unsaid._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French translation   
> " Bien Sûr" means " of course" 
> 
> "je parle très bien le français même si cela fait longtemps que je ne pratique plus" means " My French is very good, even though it's been a while since I used it" 
> 
> " une roturière intrigante" means " a scheming woman who isn't an aristocrat interested in the family fortune"
> 
> Colonel Rafaelle Mancino is a real person, running the TPC in Rome ( the equivalent of art crime in Italy). He is awesome. I will post a link after ( it's in French but you'll get to see his face at least)
> 
> The heist in Paris in 2010 with the masterpieces is alas true, so is the story about the fence and the dumpster. I can also post a link later with photos of the stolen art.
> 
> Artnapping is alas true also, very developed around here..
> 
> François Pinault, in case you've never heard of him, which is possible, is a famous French businessman, well known as an Art Collectionneur. His collection is in Venice in Palazzo Grazzi and Punta della Dogana. If you've been to Venice, I'm sure you know all this.
> 
> When I use the word Modern Art, I mean it as Contemporary Art ( like in the UK or USA), ie Art from the 50 up to now. ( In France, Modern Art is very precise, goes from " Les Demoiselles D'avignon" to Pop Art, ie 1907 to 1960)
> 
> I hope this isn't too tedious. But I love Art and lots of my friend are in the Art business...and I love long twisted plots ...so...


	6. The Lorenzinis

"I have to go, Moz" Neal said, coming out of the shower half an hour later "I'm having lunch with Massimo at the Lorenzini residence"

" Good for you, mon frère." Mozzie snapped " I'm gonna enjoy sitting in the sun, sipping espresso and reading newspapers. I need to refresh my Italian, you know, just in case-"

"Massimo and I, we mostly talk in English...his English is perfect of course" Neal babbled. "I speak French with his father though, in those days Italians had to learn French at school, it's not the case anymore alas..and of course I speak French with my new father"

"How fascinating, mon frère, all these multilingual abilities of yours, coming to use again" Mozzie said, his tone sharper than he intended.

Neal stared at Mozzie for a long moment before pulling him into a fierce embrace.

"Look, Moz...I know you don't approve-"

"I'm sorry" Mozzie said, hugging Neal "I'm just nervous, ok? You're undercover, you're...obviously quite taken by an art student whose family you're supposed to bring down...just...be careful...I can't go through all this mess again, you understand?"

 

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Neal was still amazed by the opulence of the Lorenzini residence, even though he pratically lived there these days. The villa, located near the Borghese Gardens was superb, Guiseppe definetly had a good taste when it came to renaissance paintings. Neal still hadn't gotten used to the size of the formal dining room. He had totally fell in love, however, with the Lorenzini's hospitality. The family was awesome.

It was like living with male versions of June.

_Except they were former mafiosi. Possibly mafiosi still._

« I still don't get it » Neal said, sharing drinks with Francesco in the library while Massimo was changing upstairs. They've had mind bending sex only half an hour ago, sneaking in the garden like horny teenagers.

Neal's knees were still weak. There was something about _outdoor sex in the morning_ with a much younger man that was truly magnificent.

« You're making my baby brother happy François » Francesco smiled « frankly, as far as I'm concerned, that's all that matters. »

« I know, but- »

« Yeah.....members of Cosa Nostra are supposed to be male, catholic and straight...those are the rules...but these rules don't apply to us anymore, as you know.....my father...after what happened to Enzo- »

« I still find it hard to believe that your father approves- » Neal interrupted

« My father would do anything for Massimo...he is our little sunshine. You wouldn't believe how much this household has changed because of him...there was only sadness after Enzo...but enough with the past. »

« Yes » Guiseppe said, entering the library with Massimo. « Enough with the past. Let's drink a toast, shall we? »

« To François d'Arcourt and to Massimo's future » Guiseppe said, lifting his glass «  You do believe Massimo is gifted, don't you François? Your father seems to think so. I was talking to him the other day and he is considering borrowing _Racing to heaven_ for his spring exhibit at the gallery in Paris. »

« I know » Neal beamed, entwining his fingers with Massimo's « I can't wait to see this.. _.Racing to heaven_ is spectacular.

_Racing to heaven_ , Massimo's first monumental sculptural piece, was indeed breathtaking. There was something about those giant white corridors spurting from the ground, those colored race cars hanging somehow magically within them....yes, definitely a magnificent piece for such a young artist.  
  
"I'm working with Neal on something completely different" Massimo said, a dreamy expression on his face.  
  
" François, I didn't know you were such a talented sculptor yourself" Francesco said " I guess living with all this art around you when you were a child explains it-"  
  
" I'm not half as talented as Massimo" Neal whispered humbly.  
  
" You seem to inspire my baby brother" Francesco chuckled. " Shall we move to the dining room? Lunch is ready"  
  
Lunch, as always, was exquisite. Guiseppe asked a lot of question about the opening of the Museum.  
  
"Is it still scheduled for next June, François? Are you happy with the new pieces Alberto is buying? Alberto told me you were going to New York next week to see this new Israeli artist...what's his name again?"  
  
" Father" Massimo laughed " I already told you three times..you need to start writing things down, you know-"  
  
"You'll see when you reach 72, my son, you'll see" Guiseppe said fondly.  
  
" His name is Gil Marco Shani" Neal added. " His work is...disturbing yet beautiful. I think I'm going to buy...we'll see when I get there"  
  
 _There._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Racing to heaven ( I invented the name of this piece) is a real sculpture. I will post a link with the photo and the real artist's name
> 
> Gil Marco Shani is a very talented Israeli artist. His work is all about death, love, animals...it's very beautiful. Again, I will post later some photos of his work.


	7. New York City

**New York City . A week later.**

 

" Boss? you don't need to come with me for this one. It's just...I'm gonna deal with NYPD, ok? Jones was playing with his car keys. " They didn't steal anything...they didn't have enough time.. but the owner of the gallery is freaking out and she wants to see if we have something that matches her description of the suspect in our data base. I was thinking of taking the probie with me, just-"

"I'm coming" Peter whined " I need to get out of the office, at least for a few hours. I can't stand signing papers anymore"

Jones shrugged. Peter Burke wasn't enjoying his promotion as much as he thought he would.

Nothing new.

"Besides" Peter confessed " I'm sick of hearing El talking about all these art galleries...she used to go visit them with-"

He abruptly stopped in the middle of his sentence, leaving the two oft them in silence for the rest of the drive.

_How are things in Rome for you, Caffrey? Jones thought, as Peter was heading towards the Meat Packing District. Are you happy? Are you undercover? Do you think about us sometimes? I do.Think about you. A lot._

 

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It felt strange, to be back like this, undercover, in his own city. It felt strange to walk these familiar streets while pretending to be a foreigner. It felt strange to go through customs with a French passeport.

" I know you'll be tempted, Neal" Rafaelle Mancino had warned him during their last debrief, " But don't "

Neal had nodded, heartbroken.

" No contacts with any of your former friends...It's too dangerous. You do understand that, don't you Neal?" Rafaelle had said " I can't protect you over there....and you never know who might see you..."

Neal hadn't suspected it would be so hard.

He longed for Riverside Drive and a cup of tea with June.

He longed for the 21 st floor of the Bureau and a chat with Di and Jones.

He _\- fuck-_

_All he wanted to do, was dial Peter's cell and hear his voice._

_All he wanted to do, was breathe again in the scent, the arms, the touch of Peter Burke._

 

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Neal let his fingers linger on his cell phone. He still knew Peter's number by heart.

_Stop this, Caffrey._

As he entered the Agora gallery in the Meat Packing District, he immediatly realized something was wrong. The owner, Natalie Grumbach seemed totally distressed. She rushed towards him, her hands shaking.

" Oh" she said " You must be François. Philippe just called me from Paris."

Neal gave his best charming smile.

" I didn't know Philipe had a son" she murmured " It's such a shame...I mean, that the two of you were kept apart for so long...I'm so sorry for your mother. " She paused, studying Neal intently. " God, you look so much like Françoise.....I guess it's a blessing for Philippe to have you back in his life..."

" Merci" Neal whispered, his throat constricting " I am, as you imagine, very happy to have found my way back to my father..."

_This is excruciating._

" Please" she said, gesturing towards her office " Let's have a cup of coffee. I gather you came for " Man and Leopard? Gil's latest piece?"

" Oui" Neal said, " We are thinking of buying it for Alberto Cavallieri's future museum in Venice. It's quite a spectacular piece, very different from the rest of the artist's work-"

" I agree" Natalie enthused, closing the door of her office to give them privacy, " It's unique in the sense that it's his only black painting...and I know Alberto loves black..It would look good in Venice, I'm sure." She busied herself with the coffee machine and handed Neal a cup.

Neal was carefully pouring sugar in his coffee cup when he heard indistinct male voices in the gallery.

" Are you expecting someone?" he asked politely " I can get a look at the painting while you entertain your visitors"

Natalie Grumbach fidgeted on her seat.

" This isn't a fun visit. I'm expecting some Agents from the White Collar Division...from the FBI. Sorry to bother you with this, François."

Neal squeezed his eyes shut and smoothly walked to the door, his hand gripping the door knob.

" I'll come back later" he murmured, opening the door, " I understand this isn't a good time for you, Mrs Grumbach"

_Need to find the back entrance. Now._

" No, please don't...this will only take a few minutes...they have ID...I want to compare the suspect with their data base" she said, walking past Neal to meet her visitors. " Here, let me show you where the painting is-"

They both nearly collided with the FBI Agents.

" Peter" Jones said, before stopping dead in his tracks " I think Mrs Grumbach is busy with a client. Maybe we should wait for a couple of minutes-"

_Christ. Caffrey. What are you doing here?_

Neal felt a chasm open under his feet. Jones was right there with Peter Burke.

_Freaking awesome, dominant, sexy all the way, wearing shades, Peter Burke._

Peter's long- fingered hands - God, what those hands had done to him in the past- stood in the air like brackets. Peter was undoubtedly as shocked as he was.

Jones - God bless him- was the quickest of them to regain control over the situation.

" Mrs Grumbach" he said, " I'm Special Agent Clinton Jones" and this is-"

" Peter Burke" Peter whispered, white as a sheet, shaking hands with Natalie Grumbach " I'm running the White Collar Division." He was slightly breathless with that deep look of concentration on his face that Neal recognized immediatly as a sign of huge interior turmoil.

" You must be expecting us" Jones added hastily, aware of the awkwardness of the situation " But, please, finish what you have to do with your client-"

" Yes" Peter breathed out, his hands clenching around his badge " We'll take a tour around the gallery, just...to check all the entrances..and to have a look at the security system..and..." He swallowed. " Your client..."

" Gentlemen" Natalie Grumbach interjected " I'm so sorry for forgetting all my manners..this is François d'Arcourt, the son of-"

" Philippe d'Arcourt, the famous Parisian gallerist, of course" Peter said, locking his eyes with Neal and shaking hands. " It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr d'Arcourt. I had the privilege of visiting your father's gallery while I was working on a case with the French Police years ago. Your father still represents Jeff Koons, I gather? My wife loves the little hearts.."

" Yes" Neal answered, his voice strangled " _Nous avons toujours._..sorry, I mean yes, we still represent this artist...of course " Peter's hand rested in his, the ferm pressure of his fingers sending shivers down the small of Neal's back.

Peter thought Neal speaking French and going by the name of _François_ , was possibly the hottest thing in the universe.

Because Neal's eyes said everything his mouth couldn't, neither of them made the slightest attempt to move away from each other.

Jones felt the urge to start the visit before either Peter or Neal would loose it.

" Let's start the tour" he said, pulling Peter by the sleeve.

_François._

_Do you have a lover in Rome, Neal? Some fancy Italian guy with those classy suits you like so much? I bet you do. Does he call you François when he fucks you? Does he make you beg and scream like I used to? Do you offer yourself to him the same way you did with me? And when he undresses you, does he claim your mouth like there is nothing else in the world?_

"Peter" Jones was almost yelling " I think there is something here with the security camera that you need to check."

 

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" Diana?" Jones said, standing right in front of her desk, " you need a coffee break _now_ , don't you?"

Diana stared at Jones, puzzled.

" Sure" she said smoothly, picking some coins for the coffee machine on the 23 rd floor. " Coming."

" What's up, Clinton?" Diana asked, while they were standing in the elevator " Something wild happened in the Meat Packing District?"

" That's one way of putting it" Jones laughed.

Diana frowned.

" Nothing too serious, I hope" she said, sensing Jones's discomfort.

" We...Neal was at the gallery" Jones blurted out, inserting coins for his espresso.

Diana almost spilled her coffee.

" Neal" she shrieked " But..that's....isn't he supposed to be in Rome, working with-"

" He is" Jones stated somberly. " He is undercover in NYC, as François d'Arcourt, alleged son of Philippe d'Arcourt-"

" The French Modern Art expert?" Diana's eyes widened. " Woaw. What is he supposed to be doing? It must be a pretty big op if the Italians are paying all his expenses just to fly over here to maintain his cover.."

" He is supposed to buy some pieces for the new museum, the one in Venice..you know...I can't remember the name.." Jones shook his head.

" I see" Diana murmured. " And Peter was with you...how did he take it, I mean and what about Neal? What happened?"

" Nothing" Jones said hastily " I mean..."

" Clinton? Don't _bullshit_ me ok? Did they talk to each other?"

" Actually, they did more than just talking" Jones said, appalled.

"Did Peter molest him and kiss him senseless in the middle of the gallery?"

" Diana" Jones hissed " Of course not."

" Then you're right. Nothing happened" Diana concluded.

" They just shook hands" Jones continued " I thought Peter would go nuts...so I took the initiative to split them up as quickly as I could."

" Did you and Peter discuss this afterwards, on the way back to the Bureau?"

Jones rolled his eyes.

" Peter didn't say a word on the way back. He was just-"

" Gripping the wheel and driving with gritted teeth, I know the drill, Clinton, I've been there with Peter. The first weeks after Neal's departure, we would sit in the van for hours without exchanging a word. Then, thank god, he realized he had to stop wandering on the field so much since he was supposed to run the division"

Jones sighed heavily.

" What would you do? Diana? Should I bury this under the carpet? Act as if nothing happened? Pretend Neal never existed? God, I'm sick of this. Neal was...is my friend. He worked here, with us...I can't continue this charade any longer-"

" You should go to Peter and have a word with him" Diana said " I would do it now, if I were you, before he shuts himself down."

" He is going to rip my head off" Jones whined " And why should I be the one to do this? You could give me a hand, you know.."

" You're a big boy, Jones. You don't need me for this...and frankly I don't think he would take it from anyone else."

" What makes you think that, Diana?"

Diana smiled, putting a gentle pressure on Jones's forearm.

" Because you're a guy...but mostly because you were there right from the start....and right until the end"

" You too" Jones ventured.

"Clinton" Diana said, softly, " I wasn't the one who drove Neal to te airport when he left for Rome"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for Jones to stand up for team Caffreyburke. I always liked Jones on the show.  
> The Agora Gallery is a real galery in NYC


	8. The secret drawer

"He is out" Jones said, relieved, as he walked back to his desk.

" Don't be such a sissy boy, Clinton" Diana chuckled, looking at her watch. " He's just gone out to get something from the deli, it's almost 1 pm. Time for lunch. Go and sit in his office. Wait for him."

Jones climbed the stairs and entered Peter's office. It was true Peter never took the time to lunch with his team these days. Of course, his new responsabilities burdened him a lot more....but that wasn't the only reason. Jones remembered the old times.

Before, when the four of them would have lunch together, at least twice a week, if not more.

Before, when Peter would grab the check and say " Christ, I've forgotten my wallet again at the-" And then, Neal, handing it back with his best con smile while Diana would have a fit of giggles.

Before, when CaffreyandBurke would walk around the streets, like they owned the place.

Jones shot a quick glance at Peter's computer.

Yes. Of course. Peter had googled lots of interesting stuff. _www. darcourtgallery.fr_ and also _www.venicetouristboard.com_ and _www.tpc.gouv.ita._

" Clinton" Peter said, carrying chinese take outs in one hand and closing the door with the other, " What can I do for you? "

He sat down, disposing all the food on his desk.

" Wanna share? I'm not that hungry, actually"

" Neither am I" Jones admitted. If he was about to have a Neal-oriented discussion with his boss, he'd rather have it on an empty stomach.

Peter waited, silence stretching between the two of them.

"So" Jones started, hesitantly, pointing at Peter's computer, " Venice...you thinking of a romantic week end?"

Peter frowned, his sticks digging savagely in the chicken chop suey.

" I'm not in the mood for a romantic week end with El at the moment....short nights...diapers...Peter junior isn't a peaceful baby"

" I wasn't thinking of your wife" Jones said, bluntly, " In fact, I was thinking about Neal."

Peter chocked on a vegetable, his mouth agape.

"N-" he mouthed, wide-eyed, " Jones, what are you talking about?"

" Oh, come on, Peter. You just bumped into your former partner....who also happens to be your former best _friend....CaffreyandBurke,_ you remember them? The best closure rate of the Bureau? The super cool CI with the super bright Agent? Butch and Sundance?

" Neal" Peter said, at last, realizing it was the first time in eighteen months that he'd voiced his former lover's name out loud.

Jones smiled. " See, It's not that difficult. It's a nice name, I always thought....it's musical -Neal-"

" Like - steal- " Peter snarled.

" That's a low blow, Peter. I was thinking more like - real-"

" What are you trying to say, Clinton?" Peter asked, narrowing his eyes.

" I'm not _trying_ to say anything, Peter. I'm just saying it. And frankly, I think it's about time"

" Go ahead" Peter answered, his voice low and dangerous " I'm listening."

" No, Peter. You go ahead. This is about you and Neal."

" Agent Jones" Peter said, " I think you are way out of line here. Besides, there is nothing to tell-"

Jones jumped out of his seat, sweeping all the content of Peter's desk on the floor. Files, food, water, stapplers and pens all came down in a loud crash. Perfect-mannered and Quantico-trained Jones went berserk.

_I am so going to get fired for this. Thanks, Diana._

" Really? Nothing to tell? Like it's killing you, day after day? Like it's ruining your marriage, wrecking your life? Like it prevents you from being the father-"

" Jones" Peter yelled " Shut the fuck up"

" Like you have a wonderful son and you don't allow yourself to love him? Because each time you see him, you think about what you had to let go? Jones continued, unfazed.

" Get out." Peter breathed " Get out of my office. ** _Now_** " .

Jones could tell Peter was about to jump at his throat.

In a sense, it made things easier.

" I miss him too, you know" Jones whispered, his voice a small murmur, breaking on the last word. " Every single day."

Somehow, that did the trick.

All of Peter's defenses came tumbling down. He stood up to face the window, turning his back to Jones, covering his face with the palm of his hands.

Jones waited, patient and brave.

" How long...when did you guess?" Peter asked, after a long silence.

" Define guess, Peter"

" When did you figure it out?" Peter said, facing Jones again, his eyes dark and desperate.

" That you were obsessed with him? The day I started working for you. That you had feelings...the day I found out you had kept the green sucker...I dropped a hint about that-"

" Unfinished business?" Peter smiled, " I remember.."

" That you would go bonkers if anything happened to him? The day he was assigned with Rice and was kidnapped by this socio path-"

Peter was lost in his thoughts.

" That you were going to cover for him, no matter what? The day you stole the tape at the Howser clinic-"

Peter started to quiver.

" How-"

" He told me"

Peter bit his lip.

The day I drove him to the airport, he was a fucking mess, Peter" Jones breathed. " You two...you were always close, Peter...and then, when you came back from Cap Verde..you were....."

 _Lovers_.

" Very close" Jones said, instead.

" What should I do now?" Peter asked, " He's gone..."

" You can call him. I have all the numbers. Opening your second drawer would also be a step in the right direction" Jones said.

Peter was flabbergasted.

" How-"

" This is starting to look like a running gag, you know..." Jones stated, clearly amused " It's the only one that's locked..so...and may I remind you the I in FBI stands for Investigation."

Peter's fingers lingered on the keys.

" Go on" Jones whispered " You know you want to."

Peter unlocked the drawer, unlocking his heart for the very first time since Neal's departure.

" Socrates, rubber ball, copy of the prom picture" Jones enumerated, " the tracking anklet - by the way, the Marshalls really gave Diana a hard time about that one...she was hundred percent sure she left it on her desk-"

" You never told anyone?"

"Nope" Jones smiled, leaning in to take the rubber ball and play with it.

"Thank you" Peter said, averting Jones's gaze.

" You're welcome"

Peter slowly displayed all the bits and pieces of Neal Caffrey on his desk.

" Peter?" Jones said, opening his wallet and removing a pale blue butterfly. " Which ones did you get?"

Peter blushed.

"It's ok" Jones said, standing to leave " You don't have to tell. I need to get back to work"

 

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" What is he staring at?" Diana hissed suspiciously " And what did you guys do in there? Peter's office looks a real mess"

" We talked" Jones said, evasive.

Peter was watching, transfixed, the remaining content of his drawer.

Dozens of origami roses, carefully wrapped in tissue paper.

They came in all sorts of colors.

Yellow roses _. I'm sorry, forgive me._ There were quite a few of those.

Pink roses _. I like you, I'm your friend._ There were a lot of these too.

Black roses. _You hurt me._ There were only two of those.

And that morning in Cap Verde on the pillow.

One red rose.

_I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jones is awesome. But we knew this already, didn't we?


	9. Fairytales

" Shush, shush, baby boy" Peter murmured, rocking his son " time to go back to sleep...it's 3 am, your daddy needs his beauty sleep otherwise he won't be able to chase the bad guys"

Peter Junior didn't care about his father's beauty sleep. He was fully awake, hungry and agitated.

And screaming at the top of his lungs.

Peter wondered how El could cope with this kind of tantrum every night.

Peter Junior wasn't very interested in sleeping anyway. He was a very active baby, always trying to grab things with his tiny fingers. He especially loved playing with his parents' hair, El's long locks, but sometimes, Peter's too.

"Ouch" Peter said, when a small hand came pulling a tuft of hair " I'm gonna cut my hair real short, buddy...because this hurts, you know"

The baby frowned, his minuscule mouth sucking Peter's middle finger.

" You hungry, little one?" Peter asked " But this isn't your feeding time, not until 5 am, if I'm not mistaken"

Peter Junior let go of his father's finger.

And started to scream again, vigorously.

" Ok" Peter shushed " Ok. I'll prepare a bottle for you...a small one though....but you musn't tell your mom...otherwise.."

Peter went down the stairs, the baby still whining in his arms. In the perfect, well organized, germ free kitchen - El was obsessed with germs these days- Peter opened the fridge to retrieve a baby's bottle. Peter junior was very fussy with milk temperature. Lukewarm. Not hot. Not cold either. Peter had become quite an expert in microwawe.

But then again, parenthood was an amazing way to develop learning curves on all sorts of subjects.

Diaper size, milk formulas, pacifiers...baby lotions, non allergic washing powders...El was completely at ease with all this mysterious stuff.

Peter rushed back upstairs. He was planning on using the old sofa bed El had left in the baby's room.

" I need a comfy place to feed him at night" she had said when Peter offered to get rid of the couch. " It will come handy, you'll see."

Peter Junior was a real glutton, drinking avidly until the last drop. Peter felt immensely proud.

" You are quite something, aren't you, baby boy?"

After changing and cuddling and _singing,_ Peter decided it was time to go back to bed.

Unfortunately, Peter Junior had other ideas. He stared at his father, huge blue eyes filling with tears each time Peter tried to put him back in his crib.

" No, no..please don't cry.."

Peter sighed.

_Beautiful, blue eyed and manipulative. This seemed to be a pattern._

Peter Junior nestled himself in his father's arms, still giving him this look, longing and full of love. Peter's heart flip flopped at that.

" Humm...I guess maybe a story, then?...Does your mom tell you stories when you don't want to sleep?"

Peter Junior blinked, his face fully alert.

"Once upon a time" Peter started "There was a....."

Prince and a princess? A king and a queen? Humm _...a king and a queen with a beautiful prince in the middle?_ Yes, this sounded more like it

" There was a good federal agent and a bad criminal" Peter said, deciding to take a safer route, you never knew, they said in the books that babies understood everything, even at that age.

" The good federal agent chased the bad criminal for years, because that's wat good federal agents do for a living"

_Bullshit. The good federal agent was obsessed beyond limits with the very handsome, very clever, bad criminal._

" The bad criminal was very dificult to capture"

_Bullshit again. The bad criminal did almost everything to get caught, including showing up right under the good federal agent's nose with a green sucker._

" In the end, the good federal agent won. And he threw the bad criminal in a Super max prison for a long sentence."

_Except it wasn't the end. Only the beginning of something beautiful, yet heartbreaking._

" The good federal agent forgot everything about the bad criminal and went on with his life-"

_Lies, lies, lies. The bad criminal sent birthday cards every year..and even if he hadn't, there was no way the good federal agent could forget such an insanely beautiful man._

"One day, the bad criminal escaped...and the good federal agent caught him again."

Peter Junior wasn't even pretending to yawn.

" There is no way you're going back to sleep, is it?" Peter asked, half exhausted, half amused.

"The bad criminal offered to help the good federal agent to catch a very very bad criminal...and the good federal agent accepted"

_You bet he did._

 

_< <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<_

El woke up, totally disorientated. She immediately regretted the sleeping pills prescribed by her family doctor. But she had been such a wreck...she hadn't slept a full night since the day Peter Junior was born....She looked at the alarm clock. 4.30 am. She needed to get started. Time to move and prepare the 5 am bottle. She felt the empty, cold space in the bed.

"Peter?" she murmured, getting up. There was no answer.

She heard whispers coming from the baby's room. This was unusual. Peter never got up at night to watch over his son. El tiptoed in the corridor. The door was ajar and her heart stopped.

Peter had apparently fed and cuddled his son. He was in the midst of telling him a story. El wished she could take a picture of this father/son intimate moment. Peter wasn't a bad father per se. He just seemed...out of it. He would help..and take the baby to the park and play...and buy baby stuff, even go to the pediatrician if need be. But cuddling, caring at 4.30 am...this was new.

" The good federal agent and the bad criminal worked together for four years. They managed to achieve the best closure rate...of the Bureau. They became friends"

_Lies again. Friends don't kiss, not that way. Not like they pour their whole life in that kiss. Friends don't fuck eitheir. Friends don't risk everything, their carreer, their life, their marriage...Friends don't chase each other accross decades,borders and oceans...friends don't.._

"Peter?" El whispered, entering the room.

Peter jumped, startled by El's appearence.

"Which one of us are you talking to?" he muttered, steadying his son in his lap.

El laughed.

" Peter-my-husband" she said " What happened?...how long have you been-"

"Since 3 am" Peter interjected " And I've already fed him- I know what you're about to say, it's not the appropriate time- but-"

"Peter" El said, all quiet and gentle, " It's fine. He was hungry..you did the right thing..besides, I needed a few extra hours to myself"

"So..you're not mad at me?" Peter asked, still unsure.

" Mad?" El paused. " Mad? Why would I be mad at you Peter? "

" Well....I don't know...you seem to have created so many rules about this...the right hours, the right bottle, the right-"

"Hon" El said, resting her fingertips on Peter's lips" There are no rules...Piji is your son too...and you can do exactly what you want, including spending the night with him, feeding him, telling stories-"

"Piji?" Peter said, taken aback. "Piji? What's...is this-"

" Mozzie calls him like that. He always has. Piji. Short for Peter Junior, in Mozzieland that is"

"Piji" Peter said softly. " It's cute"

" He needs to sleep, hon. He's been up for two hours now" El said, picking up the baby in Peter's arms.

"Yeah..well, he tends to cry when-"

"Hon" El said, in that very serious - _I'm the mother-I know what I'm talking about_ -tone " Leave all this to me. Babies do cry when you leave them all alone in their room...that's because they want to keep you with them all night."

Peter Junior looked at his father, all miserable and helpless, his little fists covering his mouth. He started to sob as soon as his head hit the pillow.

 

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" What are we supposed to do?" Peter asked, circumnavigating around the king size bed " El? Hon-"

" We try to sleep. He will stop, eventually"

" Eventually?" Peter hissed " Hon, he's been crying for _twenty four_ minutes in a row"

" Come to bed, Peter. It's almost 6 am" El sighed.

Peter grabbed his pillow and threw it accross the room.

" I can't sleep. What if we take Piji in our bed? Just for a while? "

El felt all warm and fuzzy inside. "We can't do that, Hon. They say in the books that if you take the baby-"

" Screw the books" Peter said, rushing out the door " I'm bringing him here, with us, in our bed."

Peter Junior was thrilled. He instantly fell asleep, curling in between his parents, his tiny thumb in his mouth.

" See?" Peter said " My method? It worked."

 

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" So" El said, preparing toasts and coffee for the two of them " You...hmm...your story yesterday night-"

Peter took a deep breath. He knew this would come. Hell, he wondered why El didn't bring it out earlier.

" I saw Neal yesterday" he blurted out, his hand reaching for hers accross the kitchen counter. " I meant to tell you yesterday night but...well...I..hum..."

" It's okay" El said, surprisingly calm. " What is Neal doing in NYC? Isn't he in Rome? "

Peter lifted his hand in a dismissive gesture.

" I wish I knew...I met him by accident yesterday. I was with Jones at the Agora in the Meat Packing district. We were investigating a case...and there he was. Discussing with the owner, buying a piece for this new museum in Venice-"

" Alberto Cavallieri's?" El asked, surprised. " He is buying for the museum?"

" It's a cover, Hon. He goes by the name of François d'Arcourt, the son of the Parisian-"

" Hon, I know who Philippe d'Arcourt is" El said, rolling her eyes. " I'm an art expert, remember?"

She paused, clearly distressed.

" God, this looks like a big op... I hope he isn't undercover in something dangerous..like, you know...Peter?"

_The Mafia._

The Mafia was Peter's secret nightmare. He was constantly thinking about Neal's op ever since their bizarre encounter at the gallery. His mind would come up with endless images of Neal.

Neal being beaten to death and tossed somewhere in a dark roman alley. Or worse, Neal being thrown alive to drown in some fetid italian river. And Peter Burke's imagination was very vivid, fueled by dozens of Mafia crimes and tortures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's about time Peter starts to bond for real with his son.  
> I always thought Moz would be a baby fan.  
> And then this became canon with baby Theo.  
> Yay.


	10. Casablanca

  
**FBI Offices. Later in the morning.**

 

Peter waited as long as he could, which turned out to be 9.11 am. He then dialed Reese Hughes's number, pushing aside his sixth coffee cup. The bureau was very slow that morning. And he was going crazy.

" Hello, Peter" Hughes said, exquisitely urbane, " Bored already? Slow morning? No criminals to chase around?"

" Hello Reese" Peter said, inhaling deeply " I was...wondering..."

Peter distinctly heard Casablanca's theme song playing in the background.

" Watching Casablanca at 9 am?" he asked, puzzled.

" There is nothing wrong with Casablanca" Hughes said, defensive " As a matter of fact, it's one of my favs. Neal-"

" Neal gave you the DVD" Peter said, gritting his teeth " I know, I was there, remember?"

Casablanca wall Neal's all time favorite film. He could recite all the dialogues by heart. El too. They used to run contests, driving Peter totally nuts. " Casablanca is a story about eternal love" Neal used to say. " Rick knows Ilsa will always love him, that's why he lets go of her. Because true lovers like that don't need to be together. Their love will remain intact, even though they are apart. They belong to each other. Forever"  
" Bullshit" Peter would say. " If I were Rick, I would kill all the guys _, including and especially the husband_ , and then get on that damn plane with her."  
Neal would roll his eyes, kissing Peter sweetly on the lips and say something like " Peter, you can't understand. You're not a romantic"

" Yes, I remember" Hughes said " I've watched it a dozen time since. It's a great movie. It's all about eternal love and-"

" I know the story" Peter muttered, exasperated " And I disagree. When you love someone you're not supposed to send them away..."

" Really?" Hughes mused, slightly sarcastic.

Peter had a distinct feeling this conversation was not heading in the right direction.

" Reese? I was...yesterday I...."

_" Of all the cafes in Casablanca she had to walk into mine"_ Hughes said " Is that it, Peter? In this city with thousands of human beings...the two of you managed to bump into each other...Frankly, I'm not that surprised-"

" How do you know-"

" The Italians called me a few days ago. They were nervous some idiotic guy at the immigration desk would be over-zealous. Neal was travelling with a french passeport, all this was perfectly legal, of course, but you never know....Neal Caffrey has been on the wanted list for quite a long time. Rafaelle wanted to be extra careful on this one. So, I pulled a few strings-"

" You should have told me" Peter said " I would've taken care of this"

" I don't quite see how dealing with the immigration guys at JFK is part of your job, Peter" Hughes hissed " Besides, Neal's whereabouts should be of no interest to you. Or has something drastically changed since you instructed me - very firmly I dare say- to kick him out of your team? A change of heart maybe?"

" What is he doing, Reese?" What are the Italians doing with him, for Christsake?"

" The Italians are doing just fine. He is undercover, as François d'Arcourt, collecting art for this new museum-"

" I've figured that part already" Peter said " I was hoping you could give me a bit more-"

" And why would I do that, Peter? Is it because you feel guilty, all of a sudden? Is it because you are wondering what could happen to Neal? Because if that's the case...then...tough luck."

Peter felt icy fingers digging into his heart.

" i'm sorry" Peter whispered " I shouldn't have called you...I'm sorry. I'm just..."

_Fucking scared._

" You didn't ask what kind of mission-"

" Of course I didn't. Peter, are you out of your mind? And even if I had..Rafaelle would never tell me. God, Peter...you know how this works. We do it here. All the time. Sending Agents deep undercover is sometimes the only way..."

" But he is not an Agent" Peter yelled " He isn't trained for this, CIs are not supposed to-"

" You are mistaken, Peter. Neal has been fully trained. And he isn't a CI. Not anymore, not at the TPC. He is an Agent"

Peter was stunned.

" You never told me-"

" You never asked, Peter. I was the one who organized his transfer. I was the one that took care-"

" Reese" Peter begged " At least...tell me something, if you have any idea-"

" We both have an idea, Peter. We both know who is usually behind art crimes in Italy. I mean, come on...you've been there. You've worked with Rafaelle. Several times. Don't pretend you never thought of this. Neal left almost two years ago for Italy. _Italy, Peter. Not the Club Med._ Italy is one of the most dangerous places for art crime. Simply because there is a lot of art over there..and because our friends from-"

" Cosa Nostra realized a long time ago that art crime was much safer and more lucrative than any other business" Peter continued, his heart in his throat.

" Well, yes. That's why TPC is such a huge brigade. They simply don't have a choice."

" How..do they protect Neal over there?"

Reese sighed.

" Peter, you already know the answer to that question. They do it over _there_ the same way we do it over _here."_

Yes. Precisely. Which meant no protection. Deep undercover was a very dangerous world. Agents that would go "under" were virtually alone. No surveillance vans, no wires ( except in the end of course) , no rescue team waiting nearby to fly in. Agents would live with the suspects, breathe with them, becoming part of the family. That was the whole point. When it worked, it was quite superb. But when it didn't....welll the Agent was left alone to cope.

_And sometimes, to die._

" But, Reese-"

" No buts, Peter. Rafaelle is a good guy. He knows what he is doing. And so does Neal. I suspect he volunteered for that mission, nobody forced him..."

Yes. Precisely. Neal must've jumped into it with his usual lack of impulse control. Peter gripped the phone, trying to remain calm.

" Peter" Hughes said, ice cold " I suggest you call Rafaelle yourself, if you are that concerned about Neal. But if you are on a guilt trip..then I'm afraid it's too late for that."

Peter's heart sank. Hughes had a point there, of course. Who was he to start interfering with Neal's life? He had lost that right a long, long time ago.

_"If anything were to happen to him.."_ Peter remembered what he once told Ellen. In his own goddamn kitchen.

_Christ._

You sent him away. You are responsible if anything happens to him. You were supposed to protect him. Neal is your responsability.

Peter's mind was full of these thoughts when he put the phone down. Hughes hadn't voiced out anything like that. But Peter could read in between the lines.

_Why did I cut you out of my life? And, more importantly, how will I ever survive if anything happens to you?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casablanca is still one of my favs  
> And God I miss Hughes.  
> Wish they had kept him for all four seasons..  
> He will live forever in fanfic and in our hearts.


	11. Within these walls

**November 2015 Rome. Lorenzini residence.**

 

Four months into this relationship and they were having their first lovers' quarrel. And there was nothing Neal could do about it.

" You have to tell me" Massimo said, anger constricting his throat " You really have to, otherwise-"

"Otherwise what?" Neal answered, standing at the other end of the room. " There is nothing to tell"

Massimo laughed. " Of course there is"

Neal started to collect his clothes, scattered around the bed.

" I'm heading home, Massimo. We'll discuss this some other time. We might say things that we will regret afterwards"

Massimo leapt over the bed, blocking Neal's attempts to get dressed.

" Who is he?" he said, his voice softer now.

" You're not making any sense" Neal groaned, shoving his lover aside.

Massimo held his hands up, peaceful. He really wanted to discuss this topic even though Neal had been very good at avoiding it for several weeks now.

" Who is he, Caro Mio? The man you're still in love with, the man you're saving yourself for?"

"There is no such man" Neal yelled " You're making this story up just because-"

" Just because you will _never let me fuck you?_ Is that what you are about to say?"

Neal clenched his eyes shut. A desperate move to remain in control.

" I told you-"

" You are lying, François. The fact that you know you are lying makes it even worse."

"I'm not...I just..."

Massimo narrowed his eyes, studying Neal intently.

" Are you trying to tell me _no one ever fucked you?"_

_Promise me, promise me you'll never let anyone do this to you, ever._

Eighteen months after, those words were still engraved in Neal's memory. There were days when he hated Peter for that. He resented him for being able to control his life, hell his love life, like that. Eighteen months...and he still felt the leash, if not in his brain then in his heart. And that mere thought terrified him. It was worse than prison. Prison, at least you could escape from. This...well this was a mental prison with a dead end. Neal didn't cope very well with this kind of situation. He felt trapped. In the past, whenever these kinds of feelings occured, Neal would take dangerous roads. But then again, he had Peter to watch over him.

" I wouldn't believe you anyway, Caro Mio" Massimo continued " You have to explain to me why in the bedroom you are so into it... you have to tell me why you let me tie you, blindfold you - and my God you seem to really enjoy it- cuff you even...but as soon as I try to touch you there-"

" Massimo" Neal whispered " Please...can we discuss this later? I promise-"

" _No fucking way._ Now is the time to have a deep honest conversation, at least I need one. I don't know about you, maybe you can waltz through life, sweeping the real issues under the carpet...I can't do that. Not with you, not with us."

Neal's nostrils flared. He bit his lip, intense. The taste of blood came in, making him feel nauseous.

" Very well then, Massimo. What do you want to know? A full history of my sex life? Because if that's the case, I'm really sorry but you're not going to get it. You were aware, obviously, that I had a life before I met you-"

Massimo rolled his eyes.

" Sure I did. And that's fine. I had a history too, despite the fact I'm only twenty. But I don't have ghosts lying all over the place...and you seem to have a pretty intense back story...I love you, François...and I want to help you. That's what lovers do, that's what friends do too."

Blind, ugly rage swept through Neal.

" You don't have ghosts lying around you ? Massimo? _Come on._ And what about your childhood? And what about the fact you were a british citizen, adopted - God knows why- by a former Don of Cosa Nostra? Now, that's an interesting story, don't you think? Much more fascinating than my previous sex life"

And that's what Peter Burke would call a monumental, life threatening blunder. There was a reason not to get too heavily involved with the mark. Neal regretted his words as soon as they came out of his mouth. But it was too late. Massimo was staring at him in complete and utter shock.

" Who told you I had a british passeport before I was adopted by Guiseppe? Certainly not Francesco, nor my father. And I never said anything about that-"

Luckily for him, all of Neal's lying skills came back to him in a flash.

" Alberto Cavallieri told me" he said, bluffing and praying all the deities of the universe that his inspiration was accurate. " I asked him about your accent. I said I never heard someone with such a perfect british accent. Very poshy too..Alberto laughed when I asked him and he said-"

" In his terrible accent of his - François, that iz becauz he iz. British. He was born british. Now, thank God he iz Italian." Massimo continued, visibly relieved. " Alberto is the only person who knows, aside my family. He must trust you very much if he tells you secrets like that....do you think he suspects we're together? That would explain it...Alberto is such a romantic.."

Neal exhaled, sensing the bead of sweat on his upper lip.

" No. He doesn't suspect anything. No one knows... except your family. And it needs to stay that way."

_Yes. Because otherwise I would get fired. Immediately. And that would be the end of my carreer. No one would ever trust an Agent having an affair with the mark during an undercover op, especially in Mafialand._

Massimo rushed into Neal's arms, all sweet and tender again. They kissed for an inordinate amount of time until they were both breathless.

" I understand, Caro Mio. I understand why we need to be careful. You can't break your father's heart again. Philippe would be miserable...you ran with the wrong girl...you came back to him...and now you're with a man. I understand. One day, we'll have to tell him...but for now, we can enjoy what we have... within these walls. At my father's house"

_Lies. So many lies. Lies so intricated with the truth that there will be no way out._

"Let's go back to bed" Neal murmured " I want to fuck you. Here. Within these walls"

 

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" I'm hungry" Neal whispered, caressing his lover's lips with his thumb " I'm exhausted. I'm over the moon. But I need to get back to work. It's getting late. I was supposed to have lunch with the interior decorators of the Museum."

" Cancel" Massimo said. " I still want to have this conversation we started earlier"

" The one about my previous sex life? No way" Neal laughed, leaving love bites all over Massimo's chest.

" Hmm...not exactly. The one about me. I want to play this little game with you"

Neal shut Massimo with a kiss. It didn't work. Neal was amazed Massimo was such a talkative guy, especially after sex. Peter Burke was cave man after sex. They were no post coital discussions. Peter would snuggle behind him, possessive and silent and hold him until they both fell asleep. Peter would also fuck him, sweet and tender, during the night, when Neal was still in a sleepy haze. That's when Peter would talk.

Whispered words of eternal love, earth shattering words like _forever, mine, beautiful_ and - _please never leave me as long as I live-_ along with  
 _\- please never cheat on me because it'll break my heart-_ They were alternate versions sometimes, like - _if anyone touches you, I'll break his neck_ \- or - _you belong to me_ \- And then, only when Peter thought he was deeply asleep, _\- God, I love you so much it's driving me insane-_  
Neal sometimes wished he could record all this on tape and produce it as evidence when Peter was teasing him in the office, pretending CaffreyBurke was just a fragment of Neal's imagination.

" I realized I was wrong to dig into your past like that. I never told you anything about my past either. I'll be the one to start" Massimo said, very serious all of a sudden. " _Stop kissing me._ This is real stuff"

" Ok. I'm sorry" Neal said, sitting on the bed. " I'm listening. Altough if we're about to have _the talk_ we should avoid being naked. Just saying."

" My real name isn't Massimo Lorenzini. As you know, I was adopted. My real name is Maximilian Fairchild. My parents were british and I was raised in the UK until Guiseppe and Francesco came to take me four and a half years ago to live with them."

Neal didn't really want to hear all this. Maybe because he had finally located the art and he sensed the op would stop anytime soon, probably today, even. Yes. Today. He would give the signal to the surveillance team. He would. He had to. That's what he was paid for. Yes.

" So, should I call you Max? " he said, trying to keep a light mood.

_Please don't tell me anything that could incriminate you. Please. I couldn't live with that._

" My parents died in a car crash when I was fifteen. I was at school when it happened. The head master was the one to break the news to me"

" Your relatives didn't come to tell you?" Neal was horrified.

" This is the UK. I was in a boarding school, miles away from home. After the funeral, I stayed at my uncle's for a fortnight. He told me about my father's will. I was to go and live with those guys I had never heard of."

" My God" Neal said, crushed " This is really...I mean this is really cruel"

" I know. I was in total shock. And then.."

Massimo blushed. He looked at the ceiling, avoiding Neal's gaze. " I don't know how to say this...especially to you. You just bonded with your own father again. You can't understand this...you'll think I'm a monster-"

Neal entwined his fingers with Massimo's. " Whatever is it you're about to tell me...rest assured I won't think of you as a monster"

" I love Guiseppe more than my father. He's been more of a father to me than my real father ever was. My real father....he was ok. But we were not very close. He was a diplomat. He....would've liked...I don't know. He prefered rugby, rowing...manly man stuff. I was more the artist, poet type."

Neal closed his eyes.

" I see you're shocked" Massimo said, sadly " I don't blame you. I thought you would be...that's also why I never discussed my childhood with you"

" Did you come out to your father before he died?" Neal asked, his voice shattered.

" I did. In fact, that's the last serious conversation we had, the three of us, my mother was there too. It didn't go very well, as you might imagine"

Neal lied down on Massimo, wiping his tears away with his thumb " Sweetheart, It's ok. It's ok to love Guiseppe more than your father. Family is...well, family is more complicated than just blood ties. Sometimes, your real family sucks. And when you find a nicer one...then, it's ok to love them more...I won't blame you for that."

" Are you ok with what I just told you?" Massimo asked, anxious.

" Of course" Neal whispered. " Of course."


	12. Caffrey&Burke

**Later,the same day.**

 

Colonel Rafaelle Mancino let his finger linger on the photos his surveillance team had taken two days ago. Neal was followed, alas not for his own safety, there was no way the surveillance team could do anything since they didn't want to alert the mark. The surveillance had other purposes.

The first purpose was to take photos of the suspects to build a file case. TPC already had plenty of these. Neal with Massimo, Neal with Guiseppe, Neal with Francesco, Neal with the three of them, having diner in fancy restaurants.

The second purpose was the exchange of intel. Whenever Neal needed to exchange intel with the team, which happened from time to time when he made progress on the case, Neal would give "the signal". The signal changed every week, Neal had memorized all the signals before he went in deep. Undercover Agents couldn't communicate with the rest of the team, not directly. TPC still favored old school, yet very safe methods. No cell, no mail. If Neal needed to pass intel, it would be on paper, given to Agents sitting in cafés or marching in the street. There had been no signal for a couple of days. That in itself didn't bother Rafaelle. The case could stop progressing for a couple of days and then start again. That was ok.

What wasn't ok was the way Massimo looked at Neal. The kid obviously had a huge crush on Neal. Rafaelle frowned. Neal was supposed to be best friends with Massimo. So far, the whole plan had worked out superbly well. But this? This was trouble. Plain and simple. On the fourth photo, Massimo was staring at Neal, adoringly. Hell, the kid was in love. And on the fifth photo...they were sharing pasta in a fancy trattoria, sitting outside on a sunny october afternoon. Neal was picking spaghetti in Massimo's plate with his fork, a gesture that Rafaelle felt to be very intimate. Too intimate. Neal was leaning forward, his shirt rolled on his fore arms, and his expression was unmistakable. Dark blue eyes, clouded with multiple emotions.

Colonel Rafaelle Mancino started to search for his international contact list. It was time to call Reese Hughes. Because that morning, on the Rialto Bridge, when Neal had jumped on the vaporetto in a James Bondish kind of style, that morning, when Peter Burke had watched Neal and then turned around to talk to him _\- Rafaelle, did you see that? Man, this is insane, this guy is spectacular_ \- it was all there, in Peter Burke's eyes. The same emotions.

_Fear, awe, lust and desperation. All in one._

Rafaelle dialed Reese's number, checking the time difference.

" Hello" Reese said " Rafaelle, is that you?"

" Yes my friend. How are you these days? How are the grandkids? Driving you insane? Mine do. All the time"

" Ah, the bambinis" Reese laughed " They're cuties. But I'm exhausted when their mother picks them up at the end of the day."

" I imagine...."

" Is there anything you need from me, Rafaelle? Is this about Neal?"

Rafaelle lit a cigarette.This was a big step. But this was also a very big, very dangerous op.

" I need to ask you something, Reese. In fact I have two questions. The first one is easy...the second one...well...I'll understand if you need time to answer that one. I would if I were you"

" Start with the easy one" Reese said " I just finished fixing the sink and my wife wants me to do some _gardening_ with her. I need a simple problem before we move to some heavy stuff".

" Very well then. When Neal was undercover...did he...did he have a tendency to-"

" By pass the rules? Take risks? Yes. All the time. But most of the time, it worked. Although I trust you to never repeat him that."

" This is not..I'm thinking about something more dangerous than that" Rafaelle said, his voice tense.

" More dangerous than by passing the rules?" Reese asked, concern pouring out of him. " What could that be?"

" Did Neal ever....hmm...had a fling for a mark?"

Reese laughed.

" You mean flirting? Right? Neal flirts with everything. It's like breathing. It's his natural state. Hell, Neal would flirt with a bookshelf if he felt it could help him solve a case...wait, is the mark a pretty leggy Italian girl? Because in that case-"

" Can I send you humm...things? Do you have facilities at your home?"

" Send. I have everything" Reese answered, opening his lap top.

Rafaelle finished encrypting the photos befores pressing the "send" button. He then waited for a couple of minutes.

" So? What do you think?"

" The kid...It's a kid right? Must be eighteen or twenty..yes. He is head over heels. As for Neal...It's more difficult to read...Neal is the man with the thousand faces-"

" Like Peter Burke, right?" Rafaelle murmured.

There was a long silence on the line.

" Is this your second question, Colonel?"

" It is. And again, I understand if you need-"

" I understand you are running an undercover op and you need to know what the fuck is going on with your lead Agent. Am I correct?"

" Yes" Rafaelle said. "You are. Unfortunately"

Reese sighed. Sometimes, the past would come back, no matter what.

" Then go ahead. I'll answer your question"

" What kind of relationship was there between Agent Burke and his CI, Neal Caffrey?" Rafaelle asked, slightly breathless.

" Peter Burke was Neal's handler."

" Ok, I need more than that, Reese. You can answer by yes or no if you prefer. Or you can refuse to answer....which is, of course, a way to answer. Do you agree with this little game?"

" I do"

" Were they close friends?"

" Yes"

" Were they very close friends?"

"Yes"

" Is this friendship the reason why you organized Neal's transfer to us?"

" I won't answer that one, Colonel"

Rafaelle inhaled deeply. This was bad on so many levels.

" Reese? Can I ask you something else? Not about them. About this op."

" Sure" Reese said, his heart poundering in his chest.

" Neal has done a superb job, so far, for sixteen weeks...and this op is really key for us, for the french also...but, if you were in my situation...with all those elements...you would pull this op down wouldn't you?"

" I would" Reese said, his voice breaking " I would. Now. Before it's too late"

" Ok. Thanks my friend. I'll let you know how it goes"

Rafaelle lit another cigarette, overlooking the bullpen with all his Agents. Such a perfect op. Such a shame. They were so close. Last time Neal had given them intel, he had finished exploring the Lorenzini Residence. The art was not there. Neal seemed to have a theory about the cache. He said he just needed a few extra days to sought it out. Too bad.

" Colonel" the young Carabinieri seemed out of his mind. He was rushing up the stairs like his whole life was depending upon it " Colonel. He gave us the signal. Just now. He was walking out of the Lorenzini Residence...and right there, he gave us the signal"

" What?" Rafaelle was stunned. " What signal?"

The young Carabinieri was out of breath. He was part of the surveillance team. " Neal Caffrey. He gave us the big signal. The one that means the op is over. He knows where the art is. He wants to meet you to debrief."

" Is Neal following the procedure?" Rafaelle asked, " If he is, we need to prepare the safe house for him and organize the rendez-vous. He can't stay in Rome for too long."

" He is. He went straight to his apartment. I suspect to start packing his stuff"

Rafaelle rushed downstairs. " Guys, It's now 3.30 pm. Neal has closed the op. He knows where the art is. We need to put him under protection as soon as possible"

" Colonel" Umberto, Neal's direct supervisor, couldn't hide his excitement " You really think he did it? He got them to talk about it? Or he found clues?"

" We'll find out when we get the debrief. When it comes to Neal..everything is possible."

" Including the best" Maurizio said, smiling. Maurizio was Neal's best buddy in the brigade. Not that Neal had been very social. But when he chose to be, it was always to drink Italian wine and discuss _ragazze_ with Maurizio.

" Yes, Maurizio, including the best" Rafaelle said.

_And the worst too._


	13. Romantic diner

It didn't take long to pack. Neal was used to this anyway. Rushing out, being on the run, leaving beloved ones behind. Only this time, he wanted to do it right. He suspected one of the guys from TPC would show up in the street to pass him discreetly the time and place of the rendez-vous. Rafaelle would be waiting for his debrief as soon as possible. Before he left for several days, weeks maybe, pending on the ability of the french police to retrieve the art, he wanted to talk to Massimo again. It was time for him to share a few secrets with Massimo. Neal smiled.

 _Maximilian_.

Maximilian was a nice name. _Maximilian and Neal._ Yes, he quite liked that.

The art was in France. In the St Jean Cap Ferrat villa that belonged to Francesco. Neal had seen pictures of the vault. There was a lot of art there. Guiseppe had decided to fly to France with him over Christmas to show him all the art. Neal was supposed to estimate several paintings. Of course, Guiseppe had no idea Francesco had hidden the stolen art in the family vault. But Neal was 99% sure the five paintings from the Paris heist were there.

Neal finished packing and decided to do some errands for his last diner with Massimo. He hoped Rafaelle would allow him to have diner with Massimo before the rendez-vous. He also hoped the surveillance guys hadn't spotted someone else was following him. This bizarre feeling started two weeks ago. Neal had noticed right away, of course. He had lived for such a long time with people chasing him that his sixth sense was highly developed. He didn't tell his team. This was crazy and dangerous. Rafaelle would cut his head off if he knew, but Neal wanted to buy himself some time with Massimo. Rafaelle would've closed the op immediately. And Neal couldn't bear the thought. It was already difficult for him to stop his relationship with Massimo today.

 

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" What is he doing?" Rafaelle said, puzzled " Buying groceries and asparagus? He doesn't need that. He's gonna be in a safe house as of this evening."

" I know" Umberto said, nervous, " I know. But we havn't passed him the time and the venue. Maybe he thinks we are taking him to the safe house later than this evening?"

" Come on, Umberto. Neal knows the procedure. We can't leave him around the Lorenzini family for too long. It's dangerous"

Colonel Rafaelle Mancino lit up his tenth cigarette. This was a very tense day. He would never quit smoking at that rate. And then, realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Neal wanted to have diner with Massimo. Of course. Neal was a romantic. Just like in the Kate story. Neal escaped from prison to run after Kate, although his sentence was almost over. Neal didn't want to disappear for several weeks without spending one last evening with his lover. Rafaelle Mancino suspected Neal Caffrey's heart had been broken too many time. Possibly because he was always on the run. Seeing people one last time and making proper goodbyes...that was something Neal needed like breathing. And Colonel Rafaelle Mancino was a kind man.

" Pass him the message on the street. Tell him our guy will meet him at 11.30 pm, Piazza di Trevi. It's a two minute walk from his place. The code will be " They should think about cleaning the fountain. Too many coins" Our guy will answer " They never will. This is Italy".

" 11.30 pm?" Umberto asked suspiciously " Why not 6 pm? The sooner the better"

" Because I say so" Rafaelle said, his tone of voice leaving no room for discussion.

 

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Neal was preparing risotto with asparagus, Massimo's favorite. He hummed to himself. The table was ready, there were scented candles in the living room, flowers on the coffee table. Neal loved cooking. It reminded him all the intimate moments with El, at the Burke's house. El was a superb cook. They used to try to impress each other with fancy french recipes. The door bell rang and Neal rushed to the door to meet his lover.

" Hello, Caro Mio. I brought the wine. I didn't know what you would cook...so red and white both" Massimo said, his lips lingering on Neal's temple. "This smells delicious...risotto with asparagus...mmm.."

" Let's have a drink first" Neal said, guiding Massimo to the sofa. " There are a few things I want to share with you tonight"

Massimo's eyes lit with excitement. " Really? The great François d'Arcourt wishes to share some of his deepest secrets from his tormented past? I am dying to find out"

" I am willing, yes" Neal breathed in Massimo's neck. " I am more than willing. I thought we could go like this. You ask me all the questions you have on your mind. I'll do my best to provide you with answers"

Massimo was overjoyed " I love this game, François. So..first question, how and where did you meet Kate?"

" In New York. I was on vacation. She worked in a gallery as a temp"

" How many women have you slept with?"

Neal laughed. " The sex life again? Ok, I can't answer that precisely. Quite a lot before Kate. I was young and careless....lots of french girlfriends in Paris...but then after, I met Kate"

" You were always faithful to her, then?"

" Not always...but most of the time, yes. Kate was my wife. Sometimes, husband and wiwes have difficult times..."

Massimo already knew everything about Kate's death and the plane crash. Neal was pretty sure he wasn't going to ask questions about that.

" During all these years with Kate...how did you guys survive financially?"

" Kate's parents were very wealthy. They spoiled us for a long time. Kate worked in a gallery in New York. I was an art teacher. I also met a few rich colectioneurs through Vincent, Kate's boss. I helped them to buy a few pieces. I was already a hot shot about art back then. My father, you know...I used to spend all my free time at the gallery when I was a kid..so art is really my world"

" Did you and Kate meet some nice guys in New York? Do you have friends there, still? "

" Plenty. I can show you pictures if you want" Neal smiled, opening his wallet. " I carry a few with me, as a matter of fact"

Massimo displayed the photos on the coffee table.

" Him? "

" This is Dante. My oldest american friend. He is a sort of...geeknerd. He chases internet hackers. He runs a very successful compagny called Lolana securities, with his girlfriend, Sally."

" Him?"

" This is Clinton Jones. He..well...believe it or not..he's an FBI Agent. He works for the White Collar division. He chases white collar criminals. A lot of these crimes are committed in the art world..that's how I met him"

Massimo was scrutinizing the photo as a scientist would examine a bug through a microscope. Neal had a feeling the next question would be about his relationship with Jones.

" It's him, right? Clinton. He was your boyfriend. He's the one that broke your heart. Jesus..he's gorgeous. I don't blame you-"

" Clinton Jones never, ever ...Clinton is straight as an arrow. He's just a very good friend, that's all"

Massimo smiled, handing Neal a picture of Diana.

" Let me guess, she's his wife. She is gorgeous too. Did they invite you to the wedding? God, the day they start having babies...I'd like to adopt...They will have beautiful kids, no doubt"

Neal decided to go along with that version of the truth.

" You are right. Almost. Diana is Clinton's fiancee. She works at the FBI also. That's how they met. Clinton told me it was love at first sight"

" I bet she is sweet as a doll and he is the tough guy. He looks so...intense. And she looks so cute"

Neal had to bite his lip not to burst out of laughter.

" How romantic" Massimo whispered " You have exciting friends, François. White Collar division....We have the same stuff here. Our professor at La Villa Médicis gave us a lecture about art crimes in Italy. The police here is called Tutela Patrimonio Culturale. In fact, last month we had a tour at their offices in Rome. They are truly amazing. I met the Colonel. He's quite something...I was impressed"

 

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Neal shot a quick glance at his watch. 10.45. Massimo had to leave. He still had a few things to finish before his rendez-vous Piazza di Trevi. He was amazed, as always, at the talent of his fellow TPC collegues. He had hardly felt anything when the guy had brushed past him, dropping the small piece of paper in his pocket.

Massimo was still sulking. Sometimes, Neal needed to be reminded Massimo was only twenty, after all. And guys in their twenties tend to sulk. It came as a shock to him that Neal had to leave so suddenly for an art tour in China to discover new artists for the museum. " You should have told me, Caro Mio. Two to three weeks is a long time...I'll miss you"

" Sweetheart, before you leave, I want you to have this" Neal said, handing Massimo an enveloppe. " Inside, you have the cell phone numbers of Dante, Clinton and Diana"

" Your friends?" Massimo asked, surprised. " Why?"

Neal sighed. This was the tricky part.

" In case anything happens to me...I want you to contact them"

Massimo stopped dead in his tracks.

" Why would aything happen to you on a tour in China?"

" I wasn't thinking about China. I was thinking in general....maybe one day...you'll need to get in touch with them."

Massimo was starting to get very tense. Neal felt he had to elaborate, otherwise Massimo would never leave.

" Listen, Massimo...in my days in New York...let's say.....sometimes I did things.."

" Illigal things?"

Neal smiled. Massimo was clever. And Neal liked clever.

" More or less, yes. I have a few enemies around the world....just like your father has"

Massimo laughed.

" My father has a lot of enemies"

" That's the point. If something were to happen to you..well I know I can turn to your father. You need to be able to turn to someone if you think I'm in trouble"

" Ok" Massimo said, looking deeply worried " I will keep this. But please, be careful. Your enemies...they're not in China, I hope?"

" No. Sweetheart. Not in China. I'll see you in a fortnight. I'll be back just in time for your birthday. Twenty one. We need to celebrate"

 

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Neal closed the door. It was 11.20. Time to meet his collegues. He threw his travel bag on his shoulder. He just hoped the french police would be quick to find the art. A couple weeks in a safe house was ok. Longer than that....Neal wasn't sure he could cope. Safe house was like prison. Neal hated prisons. Prisons reminded him of Peter. Prisons were the reason he met and fell in love with Peter. Prisons were also the reason he lost Peter.

_Forever._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had great fun describing Neal's friends.  
> Sweet Diana especially. lol.


	14. Hearts&Coffins

**December 2015. St Jean Cap Ferrat. French Riviera.**

 

" Neal" Francesco said " You need to get out of there. You have to decide who gets to save his life today"

Neal was in his bathroom, shivering and dry heaving. He had been vomitting for more than ten minutes now and he was exhausted. It was always like this after. The adrenalin, the guilt, also. Neal wondered how he could enjoy all this in the past. Probably because it was his choice, at the time, to live a life full of danger and excitement. But these days were over. Instead, he was now Francesco's puppet, robbing, stealing for his new master. Francesco was a socio path. Worse than Vincent, worse than Matthew. Pure evil.

Neal never made it to Piazza Trevi. He was captured a few minutes after he hit the street. He didn't remember anything after that, except a light pin prick on his fore arm.and then, darkness. This happened five weeks ago. When he had come out of drug-induced stupor, Francesco was studying him, concern written all over his face. At first, Neal had felt a rush of relief. But then Francesco had said " Hello, Neal. Welcome back" and Neal had understood all hopes were vain. His cover was blown and he was going to die.

_A slow painful death, Mafia style_

Probably starting with a fine Italian diner en tête à tête with Francesco. They would talk about Massimo, love, life, religion even maybe. And then Francesco would explain to him, with lots of details, the death sequence.

Mafiosi considered death to be a relief. Good guys were rewarded with a quick, painless death. That was the code. There woud be no torture, neither physical, nor mental. Just a gunshot. Bad guys, guys who had betrayed...well, that was a different story altogether.

There would be lots of mental torture. And then long physical torture. And then, death. You would have to beg to die. That was the whole point. Neal was pretty sure Francesco would want him to beg. Neal wasn't afraid of dying. He was afraid of dying alone, for sure, and above all he was afraid his body would never be found. Thus leaving all the people he loved in a terrible, horrible grief. He was also shattered that his collegues from TPC would believe he had gone back to the life. And of course...his former FBI friends would find out also. Reese would know. Rafaelle would tell him.

_Peter would know._

Peter would believe that after all these years, after everything he did to reform him...Neal had chosen to break bad .This was horrendous. This had been the reason Neal had started to cry in front of Francesco. Not because he was afraid to die.

_Just because he couldn't bear the thought to deceive Peter Burke._

But then again, Francesco had other plans, so it seemed. He had dried Neal's tears, very gently, and then he had given him a full briefing about his future job. Neal was supposed to steal things. He would be helped by clever, talented mercenaries. A dream team of criminals all devoted to Francesco. They would provide everything Neal needed to plan a heist. They would also protect him during the action and kill anyone trying to interfere.

So far, Neal had performed - so to speak- easy stuff. One in a villa in Monaco, the owners were away, thank God. The safe had been easy to crack and the jewels were magnificent.

The second one had turned out to be more difficult. The family was out, having diner at a friend's house nearby. This one was in Cannes. The owner of the villa was Gregor Volotiev, a wealthy russian businessman. An honest russian citizen, not a mobster. He was a very famous collectioneur of rare religious byzantine icons. The icon Neal had stolen was extremely beautiful, a master piece. It had survived the horrors of the russian revolution, thanks to a white russian family who had fled to France, hiding the icon in their suitcase. The icon had been sold to a french antique dealer in the late thirties. Two years ago, the antique dealer's daughter gave it to Christies in London to be auctioned. The selling prize had hit the roof. Gregory Volotiev considered this piece to be truly exceptional. The security system was also truly exceptional....and the team had missed security system number 3. Security system number 1 and 2 had been desactivated. System number 3, a very discreet, sophisticated camera, hidden in a false painting had had the time to record images. Images of four guys, three of them armed, all dressed up in black with masks...but images still.

Operation number three had ended just two hours ago. Operation number three came close to being a disaster. This one was in Sean Jean Cap Ferrat. Again, a very rich family. Cheik Amal was marrying his eldest son that evening. He had privatized the Eden Roc Hotel nearby, taking all his family, including the servants and most of the guards with him. The only guards left were in the guest house at the other end of the two thousand acres french gardens. The security system, although highly complex, wasn't too difficult to crack. The mechanics were very similar to those of well known museums. Neal was ok with that. The only issue was the Cheik's youngest daughter. She had stayed at the residence with the nanny because she had been taken suddenly ill. Luckily, the two of them were far away from the living room, where the Matisse was. They were in the home cinema, watching a Disney movie. Thank God they didn't hear anything.....otherwise they would've been shot. Neal was horrified when he discovered the residence wasn't empty. He wanted to cancel the op. But his team had other orders from Francesco. The Matisse. Whatever it takes. Neal had no choice but to do his job with his heart in his throat.

He was now paying the price in his bathroom.

" Neal" Francesco said again " I'm waiting. You know I don't like to wait ....we have to play our little game together. Come out, now"

_Our little game._

Francesco had created a sickening life and death game. Not for Neal...but for all the people he loved. There were two boards on Neal's bedroom walls. Neal would watch them, over and over again, during those long sleepless nights.

The first one was covered with photos. _Photos of those who hadn't been saved, yet._ Peter, Reese, Clinton, Mozzie, June. Their picture was pinned to the board with a little black magnet. The little black magnet had the shape of a coffin- Francesco had a great sense of humor-

The second board was also covered with photos, photos of the saved ones, Elizabeth and Diana. Their picture was pinned with a little red magnet. The little red magnet had the shape of a heart- Francesco was also a romantic-

" You did well, today, Neal" Francesco said, offering him a glass of excellent Bordeaux, they were in France, after all. " So? Who gets to be saved today? You still want to do ladies first? "

Neal refrained from shivering. He gulped the wine in a futile attempt to settle his stomach. It didn't work that well. But it did send a jolt of energy in his exhausted mind.

" June" he said " June gets to be saved"

" Ok, then. Mrs Ellington. A fine lady. She doesn't deserve to die, does she, Neal?"

" No" Neal whispered " certainly not".

Neal carefully removed June from the death board to bring her with El and Diana.

" Ah, Neal Caffrey...the romantic con man. Saving the ladies...I like that about you Neal. I've always liked you. I like you even more now. You are helping me to achieve something that is very dear to me" Francesco said, sipping the wine.

Neal would have given anything to understand what was behind this little game. One heist, one life saved. If Neal refused to do it- which he did the first two days, before Francesco made it clear to him that he would indeed kill his friends, all of them if need be- then some guy in New York would pull the trigger. If he failed, which was a possibility, he had one other chance. Not two. Just one. So far, Neal had succeeded in all the ops. He was haunted by the possibility of failing. He had to be on top. Always.

" Our next op is in ten days" Francesco said, smiling " I thought you needed to rest for a bit. You have to eat, Neal. You are getting too thin."

Francesco stood up, heading for the door.

" You're my guest tonight. In the dining room. Adrienne is preparing your favorite dishes. Linguine alla vongolese and Tiramisu. I see the Colonel has converted you to Italian cuisine. It is said in Rome that the new cook at the TPC is quite superb. Adrienne is good too. You'll see"

Neal smashed his fist against the wall.

" I'm not hungry Francesco. I'm sick of your little games with me. I want to know why you are using me like this. You know who I am. You know I was undercover for the TPC. Why are you keeping me alive to commit those crimes? You don't need to steal art. You have enough money to buy anything you want. You don't like jewels...you don't seem to be _interested_ in any of the pieces I stole for you...please, Francesco...please tell me..."

Francesco laughed.

" The reason why I'm using you... is none of your business, Neal. But you'll find out, eventually"

" After the last heist? " Neal begged " When?"

Francesco narrowed his eyes, his mouth a thin line.

" When it's too late, Neal"

 

 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here is the moment when the plot I concieved in Spring 2013 starts to get slightly canon. I had this crazy idea of a vilain kidnapping Neal and forcing him to commit crimes. I didn't think about Hagen, though, and I'm thrilled the show took that kind of route in season 5. As for the setting, St jean Cap Ferrat, Cannes and Monaco are all in the south of France. Côte d'Azur, as we say. The french riviera. The Eden Roc is a famous hotel where lots of movie stars stay during the Cannes film festival.


	15. American cousins

**Seven and a half weeks earlier. Lorenzini Residence. Rome**

 

Francesco was sitting by the window, in the library. He had an excellent wiew of Massimo and François kissing in the rose garden like there was no one else in the world. Francesco smiled. Sometimes, François really behaved like a teenager. It was cute, in a way. He really liked François. Unlike Massimo's previous crushes, François was very reliable and well educated. He was also an artist himself which was the best thing that could happen to Massimo. All in all, François was perfect.

Francesco felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. New York area code. He frowned. Who could call him from the States? It was 6 am over there, very early for a phone call.

" Francesco" a male voice said " How are you?"

Francesco was not perticularly prone to hyperventilation, however there could be only one reason for his cousin to call him at this hour.

" Roberto? You...you have some news?"

Roberto Lorenzini, _or Robert, as he was calling himself nowadays,_ was the same age as Francesco. He overtly disapproved when the rest of his family brutally murdered Enzo ten years ago." We're the same family" he had said to Francesco, " families don't do that. You don't kill your own siblings or cousins. Sure, Enzo shouldn't have pursued this crazy idea..becoming a lawyer and going after his own family...but even so. It's wrong" Francesco suspected Robert was guilt driven. Roberto's kindness and patience during all those years of unsuccessful manhunt spoke volumes to Francesco. So far, they had gone from dead ends to dead ends.

" We've found your man. I'm sending you everything via mail. You read and delete. You have a full briefing, name, adress, bio..including his shoe size. Ah..and we took photos too...guy with collegues, guy jogging, guy with family-"

Francesco could barely breathe. He had been waiting for this moment for ages. He had given up on the idea, almost. His father was against it.  
" Francesco, you should put all this behind you. The past is the past. Whatever you do, it will never bring him back" his father used to say.  
Francesco was on a revenge path.....and it still hurt. Even more so now that he seemed to be the only one to remember.  
" He wouldn't want that. We have Massimo now, that is the only thing that really matters" his father would say " just move on, Francesco...think about the good things in life. That's what you should be doing."

" How come it took so long?" Francesco asked, his voice strangled.

" It was classified info. That's why. We finally found a guy that was willing to spill the beans. He held a grudge against your man. That's how we got him to talk. We've paid him well. We kept him alive so far because we felt he could give more infos if you needed some, but at some point we'll need to get rid of him. Too dangerous to keep him in the loop"

Francesco closed his eyes.

" Of course" he said, opening his laptop and screening the mail.

_So, here you are. At last._

It was anti climatic, in a way. The man was middle aged, he looked just fine, normal. He seemed to have a nice life, nice house, nice collegues...

And then, Francesco's heart stopped again.

" Do you want us to take care of it?" Robert asked " I can get the job done whenever you say"

" No" Francesco said, pensive " I was thinking of coming over and pulling the trigger myself...but-"

" But?" Robert laughed " Getting cold feet Francesco? After everything you did...I would be surprised-"

" No...no" Francesco said, his voice incredibly low " the fourth photo...it looks like an older one...It was taken several years ago? "

" Yes" Robert said " our informant gave us this one. In fact, it's the first time I saw the face of your man. It comes directly from our informant's data base. Why?"

" This young guy there, next to our man, in the photo, do you know his name?"

" I don't, actually. We didn't investigate relatives and friends. We thought you wouldn't be interested in that "

" I see" Francesco whispered " I would like to know more about him..can you-"

" Certainly" Robert answered " We will ask our informant. I'm sure he will be helpful. _He is one of them, after all_..I mean, _he was one of them before he got fired._.I'll get back to you in a couple of days...what do you want to know about this young fellow?"

" Everything" Francesco said " full bio, if possible"

" Ok my friend. Will do.Take care"

" You too, Robert" Francesco said switching the cell off.

Francesco slowly walked towards the book shelves. He carefully removed the Harvard year book to open it on the right page.

" I've found him" he whispered to the young graduate in the picture " it took me long enough...but I found him"

Francesco shot a quick glance at the window. Massimo and François were still necking. They would never make it to the gate at this rate.

_Who are you, François d'Arcourt? And what are you doing with my baby brother?_


	16. Taken

**Five weeks earlier.**

 

**_Rome. Offices of TPC_ **

 

" What the fuck are you talking about, Umberto?" Colonel Mancino yelled in his cell. " What do you mean by _he isn't there?_ Of course he is there. Surveillance team told me-"

" I'm with the surveillance team, Colonel" Umberto snapped. " They saw Massimo leaving Neal's place at around 10.55 pm. Neal gave them the ok signal from his window. They waited a couple more minutes, just in case Massimo would come back. He didn't. He walked straight home to the Lorenzini Residence. We're all at Piazza Trevi now. It's 11.45. And Neal never showed up. From what I understand, he must've left his apartment around...let's say 11.20 something. The surveillance team left at 11.15 and Neal was still upstairs at the time. He vanished from the surface of the earth between 11.20 and 11.30. We sent our guys everywhere in the streets around the rendez-vous. No Neal. No message either-"

" His cell?" Rafaelle breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose " Did you try-"

" We can't locate. His cell went dead"

That was a bad sign. A very bad sign.

_Jesus, Caffrey. What the fuck are you doing?_

Rafaelle Mancino was devastated. This was the worst case scenario. His undercover Agent had gone AWOL. The french police was rabidly waiting for his debrief..and so was his boss, for Christ's sake. God. He should've kept all this for himself before telling everyone..but Neal seemed so sure...

" Colonel?" Umberto said " I'm heading for the office. I'll leave a few men here, just in case, to continue the search. We've been to Neal's place. Nothing over there. No sign of a fight of any kind. Whatever happened...happened on the street between his apartement and Piazza Trevi."

Rafaelle glanced at his watch. 11.58. There was no way Neal was going to show up now. He needed to get back to the office, make some painful phone calls to the french...and figure something out before calling his boss. Fuck. This could well be the end of his career. Especially when he would report he let Neal wander around for eight hours- _eight_ _hours_ -between the end signal and the rendez-vous. God, what a mess.

_Caffrey, I will never forgive you for this..if you double-crossed us..I'll strangle you myself._

 

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**_St Jean Cap Ferrat Fench Riviera_ **

****

Neal came to his senses in several steps. Whatever they had injected him with was pretty strong. He vaguely remembered being hauled in a car and after in a private jet. He had no idea where he was. The room, however, was nicely decorated. The door was locked. They were two boards on the walls. He wondered what they were for. There was nothing on these boards and it sort of spoilt the perfection of the decorative style. Whoever owned that house seemed to have a very good taste. And a lot of money. Neal sauntered to the ensuite bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. He felt numb. Realization hit him as soon as the cold water dribbled in his mouth.

_He was going to die._

Neal was an optimistic kind of guy. Yet, he didn't see any way out. He had been captured, his cover was blown and no one would magically show up to rescue him.

_He was going to die, alone._

As far as his collegues were concerned, he was an ex con on the run. No one would think about a kidnapping, not with his record. Peter might. But Peter wasn't there anymore to watch his back.

_He was going to die, not as a hero, but as a felon._

Neal sat on the bed, fighting as hard as he could to keep the tears at bay, He clenched his eyes shut. He never thought it could end like this. Italy was supposed to be fun, dangerous maybe, but overall more exciting than really life threatening.

" Hello Neal. Welcome back"

Neal opened his eyes, stunned. Francesco was smiling at him, infinitely kind and charming as ever.

" Francesco?"

Neal felt blind, unaldulterated fear.

_Francesco. Of course._

 

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" I won't do it, Francesco, I won't" Neal said, very calm " I don't do these sort of things any more. I'm reformed, as you well know. I don't rob people, I don't steal ..I don't plan heists, I don't-"

Francesco opened the file on his lap. " Sure, you will, Neal. Just have a look at these"

Neal grabbed the photos. Beautiful. A professional photographer, no doubt. Black and white, arty even.

Diana, Moz, Peter...

" What is this supposed to mean?"

" it means that if you don't do as I say, a marksman in New York will kill these people. Now, if you do not want that to happen-"

" I have to go back to the life again" Neal said, aghast.

Francesco laid down the rules. They were simple rules. For each heist, one life saved. Plain and simple.

" And when it's over?" Neal whispered " What happens next? Are you gonig to kill me?"

Francesco smiled " Caro Mio" he said, imitating his brother " If I wanted to kill you...I would've done it already"

" Do you have the art?" Neal asked, out of the blue " I suspect it's here. We're in France, right? In your villa in Saint Jean Cap Ferrat?"

" Yes, The five pieces are here. In the family vault"

Neal smiled. " I guess that's the reason you got really nervous when your father wanted to bring me here...I found your speech about the new security system really weird, you know...as if your father couldn't deal with that.."

" Neal" Francesco interrupted, showing no interest whatsoever in the stolen art " Before you meet your team, I want you to write a break up letter to Massimo"

" Why would I do that? " Neal asked, defiant " Massimo doesn't have anything to do with our little arrangement"

" I know, Neal. One of the reasons I kept you alive in the first place is because my baby brother loves you. And..if I'm not mistaken, I think you love him too..despite the fact it was part of your job description. In the beginning, I guess you were pretending..but after-"

" I stopped pretending" Neal whispered.

" You see, I find it incredibly brave... Foolish of course..but love is like that, isn't it, Neal? Love is more powerful than all the rules of the universe, all the rules of an undercover Agent working for the TPC. I must say you have guts. People like you do not deserve to die, not to mention I wouldn't like to waste your immense talent as a thief. That would be such a shame, don't you think, Neal?"

Neal swallowed. The guy was a socio path, no doubt. This little game with photos pinned on the wall...this was horrendous. He had to escape and try to explain everything to the french police. He sort of knew the area quite well. In his tumultuous youth with Kate, they did a few "coups" over here. Côte d'Azur was Kate's favorite place....she wanted to live here..a nice little _bastide*_ with a vineyard, perhaps. They shared this dream several times, drinking cheap wine and pretending to be millionaires...and Neal would fuck her, whispering words of love - in french-  
"Je t'aime" was so much more romantic than " I love you"...

" Here" Francesco said handing him a beautiful vellum enveloppe with stationery. " Write something inspiring and heartbreaking...I'm sure you're good with words. In english or italian. No other langage, I need to check it before you seal the envelope. Ah...no codes, Neal. I know your little tricks. If you write in codes, I'll find out. And I'll start with Elisabeth Burke. That would be a real shame. Do you know she is a mother now? Beautiful bambini. He looks so much like his mother-"

" I'll do it" Neal snapped " I'll do it now..just give me a few minutes-"

" I'll give you more than that, actually. Take your time. Pour your heart into it....and make it belivable."

Francesco left and Neal felt his whole world come crashing down.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bastide is a mediterranean mansion.


	17. The british diplomat

**Five weeks earlier continued**

 

**_Rome. Offices of the TPC._ **

 

" Reese?" Rafaelle's voice was barely audible. Too many cigarettes, cafeine and sleepless hours. It was 7 am in New York. Very early to call a friend, a retired friend, probably enjoying a lazy morning, sleeping. It was 1 pm in Rome. Neal had disappeared for more than twelve hours and Rafaelle was going crazy.

" Rafaelle? What can I do for you this time?"

Rafaelle could've kissed the man.

" Oh, Reese..I don't know where to start"

" From the beginning" Rese stated " that's usually the best way of doing it...that's what I kept telling Peter Burke whenever he popped into my office with crazy, nonsensical - Caffrey thinks we should throw a party with models to capture the suspect- kind of stories.

Rafaelle couldn't refrain from laughing.

" When was that?"

" Fashion week. Six years ago. Great fun, Caffrey style" Reese said, reminiscing.

There was a long silence on the line.

" I'm afraid my story is far less amusing" Rafaelle sighed.

" Ok. This isn't a secured line" Reese said " I need to move to the basement. May I call you back? I gather this line you're using is secure?"

" Sure. Call me. I'll be waiting"

Five minutes after, Reese was on the line again.

" So" Rafaelle said, slightly amused " you're doing the Robert de Niro thing? Like in the movie? "

" Meet the parents? In a way, yes. You know what they say...once an FBI Agent-"

" Always an FBI Agent" Rafaelle continued. He took a deep breath. This wasn't simple, not in the least.

" Neal closed the op yesterday at 3.30 pm. We were supposed to meet him Piazza Trevi at 11.30 pm to take him to the safe house for debriefing. He never showed up. This was thirteen and a half hours ago. And I've got my ass on the line"

Reese took a few seconds before asking the question.

" Why did you guys waited so long to put him under protection? _Eight hours?_ Rafaelle? We don't do it that way. As soon as the Agent closes the op, we-"

" I know. We don't do it that way either. I made a mistake. Neal....I had the feeling he wanted to see Massimo one last time before disappearing in the safe house for God knows how long...I let Neal have diner with him before the rendez-vous."

" I see" Reese said, softly " Is Massimo the kid in the pictures you sent me last time we talked?"

" Yes"

Reese bit his lip. This was bad.

" Rafaelle? You need to take me trough the whole stuff if you want me to help you. Tell me everything about this op. Last time we spoke, you were going to close it...because Neal had a fling for...what the fuck happened?"

" I was going to..and then Neal gave us the signal, the one that meant he had found the stolen art....."

Rafaelle took Reese through the different layers of the op. It was a long, long, conversation. François d'Arcourt, the cover, the museum, the Paris heist with the five masterpieces, the Lorenzinis..Massimo..everything. Reese remained silent most of the time. He needed to process.

" What think?" Rafaelle asked, out of breath. You know as much as I do. I mean, almost."

Reese Hughes muttered under his breath.

" This is a pretty big mess. Ok. We have two options. Option one, Neal knows where the art is and decides to go back to the life and steal it. It is within the realm of possibilities - this is Caffrey we're talking about- but somehow....I don't believe he would do that. Six years ago, maybe, but not now."

" I agree with you" Rafaelle said " at first, yesterday night I had doubts....but I don't see Neal doing that. Besides, it would be crazy to try to fence this art . He would have to sell to private collectioneurs....In China maybe..or Russia..and even so"

" Option two" Resse continued, grief stricken, " well we both know about option two, don't we? His cover was blown, accidently or by himself...and Francesco kidnapped him. Option two means there are 99% chances Neal is dead."

_After a long and painful agony, no doubt. God, how will he ever manage to break the news to Peter? And to Clinton and Diana for that matter?_

" I need to find him, Reese, dead or alive. I can't bear the thought of one of my Agents..."

Reese understood perfectly. Missing in action undercover Agents were a living nightmare. For the family, for the Bureau...for everyone.

" I'II help you as much as I can. Of course, until we have a proof of life and then, if lucky, an evidence of kidnapping...the FBI can't get involved in this mess..." Reese added, sadly.

" For the moment, just you is fine by me. The french police is also involved...Francesco flew to France that night in his private jet. I told Stephane already" Rafaelle said.

_Stephane._

Reese smiled to himself. Stephane was also part of the - chasing Neal Caffrey around southern Europe- gang.

" Stephane is at the head of OCBC, now, isn't he?" Reese asked " I saw he was promoted last year"

OCBC, the french equivalent for art crime was as developed as TPC. Lots of art crime in France, alas. Stephane was a good guy. He liked Neal a lot. Back then, Peter and Stephane would discuss for hours during surveillance about Neal's whereabouts. They both felt it was a shame such a clever young man was doomed to finish behind bars.

" Yeah, he is" Rafaelle answered " Thank God. We were running this op together....such a shame.. He has instructed the regular french police to look discreetly around Francesco's villa in Saint Jean Cap Ferrat"

" So, you and Stephane..just like in the old days" Reese murmured " do you believe Neal is in Seant Jean Cap Ferrat?"

" I honestly don't know. We found the Jet's flight plan. Francesco landed in Cannes, the private airport for business jets. The french are looking into that..but you know how it is with private airports..."

" Ok" Reese said " Time for action. I will look into this kid, Massimo. You said his real name was Maximilian Fairchild? Son of Penelope and James Fairchild? He was adopted in 2011, changed nationality when he was adopted from british to italian. James Fairchild was a diplomat, working for the Foreign Office in London. He was in charge of the middle east. He died with his wife in a car crash in April 2011. Ok. I got all that written down."

" I will look into Francesco" Rafaelle said " I already started with the french today"

" Rafaelle" Reese asked, puzzled " any idea why the son of a british diplomat would end up being adopted by a former Mafioso? I know Guiseppe Lorenzini is reformed..but still.."

" I have no idea" Rafaelle said " we never looked into that. We had no reasons to, so far. Do you think the kid has anything to do with all this? Neal always said Massimo and Guiseppe were 100% clean.."

Reese rummaged through his drawer to find the photos of Neal and Massimo. The kid was breathtakingly beautiful.

" I don't know, Rafaelle...but it's worth investigating. We have nothing to loose anyway"

 

**_New York City._ **

 

Reese hang up. He was pretty shaken. He stood up, pensive. He needed to contact the brits. Digging stuff on a deceased diplomat was no easy task. Luckily, Diana Berrigan was on maternity leave.

Diana's pregnancy came as a surprise to everyone. She was experiencing unbearable morning sickness since day one, practically. She was at home, lying down and bitching. She called Jones fifteen times a day out of boredom. Reese thought Diana would be thrilled to give him a hand without Peter knowing.

" Diana" Reese said when she answered her cell after the first ring " I know it's early..but may I come over to your place? "

" Sure, Sir. I'm sick as a dog and bored to death. Please, do come by"

" I think I need your help on some diplo stuff" Reese chuckled " I'll be there around 9. I hope it's not too early for you?"

" Sir" Diana sighed " the thing with morning sickness is that it really happens in the morning. I'm up since 5.30 am"

" Diana" Reese said, collecting his files " I dropped the Agent Berrigan a while ago. I think that you can drop the Sir."

" Ok, Si..I mean Reese. Jesus, I need to get used to this. What's up by the way?"

" Caffrey is in trouble" Reese said " I think your british past might help"

_Caffrey, I hope it's not too late. I didn't send you to Italy to get yourself killed._

 

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" Sir..I mean, Reese, sorry, that's impossible" Diana breathed, walking to the kitchen to fetch some ginger ale, " this kid, whoever he is, can't be what you just said-"

Reese was holding the photos of Massimo - Maximilian- and Neal. He had just arrived at Diana's and already the case seemed to have abruptly evolved.

" What are you saying Diana?" Reese asked, puzzled.

" I'm saying this kid _can't be_ the son of Penelope and James because Penelope couldn't have kids...she wanted to adopt and James didn't. When I left London in 1992 they didn't have any kids. The Fairchilds were very good friends with my parents-"

" Maximilian was born in 1994" Reese said " I saw a copy of his passeport-"

" Well, in that case, I'm pretty sure Maximilian was adopted by the Fairchilds...I guess Penelope must've been very persuasive in the end..." Diana said, thinking out loud.

" Ok...so what we have here is a boy adopted twice..first by a british diplomat and then by a reformed Don of Cosa Nostra..." Reese voiced out, " this is _quite extraordinaire_ don't you think Diana?"

" It is indeed very strange. I will call my father to see if he can help on this...he kept in touch with James I know -"

" The Fairchilds died in a car crash in april 2011" Reese said.

Diana's eyes widened. " I didn't know...and the kid was adopted right after? "

" Yes. The Lorenzinis claimed him pretty quickly. He was adopted and became italian..."

" Do we believe there is any connection between the Lorenzinis and the Fairchilds? " Diana asked.

" We don't. Come on..what would a british diplomat do with a Mafioso?"

" Yet, the kid was adopted ...so there must be a will somewhere in the UK. My father still has friends at Scotland Yard. We need to investigate at that end. There has to be a reason why James Fairchild wanted his son to be adopted by the Lorenzinis if anything happened to him..."

Diana looked at the photos again. Maximilian smiling, Maximilian in love with Neal. Neal obviously attracted to the kid. This was a fucking mess. Neal had a fling for the mark during an undercover op. More than a fling, actually, and it seemed it had blown the op and most probably taken Neal's life.

_Fuck._

" I understand why you don't want Peter involved in this.." Diana said " but at one point we will have to tell him -"

" I will as soon as I have a proof of life or..."

" A dead body" Diana whispered " God, I hope Neal is still alive...although it looks unlikely.."

" Let's hope" Reese said " I have a feeling this kid is somehow at the center of all this...I can't say why...but my instincts are rarely wrong"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow I always picured Reese retired and being a bit like De Niro in "Meet the Parents". I dont know why.  
> OCBC is the equivalent of art crime in France ( Office de répression contre le traffic des biens culturels, that is the name in french). They are awesome. Just like our white collar boys!  
> Diana's pregnancy is the only thing I changed in my plot when season 5 aired. Initially she was just very ill and out of the office for a couple of weeks. I liked the pregnancy story better.


	18. Fragments

**Four weeks earlier**

 

**_New York City_ **

 

"I have the will" Diana said " It's pretty straighforward...there is one thing though...the will is dated March 2011. Which means James Fairchild met with his solicitor just before he died in a car crash a month later. Scotland yard confirmed the accident was a banal car accident. There is no evidence of criminal intent-"

" Does your father know if there was a previous will?" Reese was toying with his coffee cup. " It would make sense..."

They were sitting in Diana's kitchen, sharing an early breakfast. Diana had moved past the morning sickness, thank God, and she was now starving. Which was easier, in a way. Resse had bought lots of stuff and Diana was devouring her sixth baegel.

" My father talked to James's brother, Maximilian's uncle. There was a previous will but of course it has been destroyed when the new one was written...and the solicitor won't share anything-"

" I understand" Reese sighed " anything else on your end? I need to talk to Rafaelle, see if there is any progress on Francesco-"

" Yes" Diana said " in fact, Maximilian's uncle was very talkative...Max was adopted in 1994...we know who the biological mother is. She is an irish nun-"

" What?" Reese jumped out of his chair " That's crazy Diana..nuns don't have babies-"

" She is a nun now...she wasn't at the time...and there is something else. She was seventeen when she gave birth. The family is very upper class. That's why they obliged her to give the baby away. After she gave birth she went to a convent in Ireland. I would've liked to talk to her, find out who the biological father is...but she is in Africa now, somewhere -"

" Oh God" Resse said " this is getting more complex each time we make any progress-"

" Wait" Diana interjected " there is more...it seems that the biological father found out about his son when Maximilian was a child. There was a custody battle at some point between the bilogiacal father and the Fairchilds. Apparently they came to an agreement of some sort because the battle stopped years ago. Alas, James was a very secretive guy..and he never told his brother who the biological father was. The only thing Max's uncle knows for sure, is that the guy was very rich...lots of lawyers involved, lots of fees. Of course, the kid has no idea about the whole thing. He never knew Penelope and James were not his real parents"

" Ok" Reese breathed " well, thank you anyway. This is helpful..it's something we can work on at least. The biologiacal father, whoever he is must be a friend of the Lorenzinis. It doesn't make any sense otherwise...He is probably a friend of Francesco-"

" I still don't understand.." Diana said " I suspect when they ended the custody battle that they came to an agreement. The biological father could have his son back if anything happened to the Fairchilds. That's what happens usually when one of the biological parent pops in after discovering an unknown child.."

" I agree, Diana. There is another option, though."

" Yes?" Diana asked, puzzled.

" The biological father might be dead. He might also have planned what was supposed to happen to his son in that case. I suspect the agreement with the Fairchilds covered that option and I suspect that's the reason why James Fairchild changed his will in March 2011."

" Ok. Well in that case...we can assume the biological father died in the beginning of 2011. The italians need to check in Francesco's background. See if he has a close friend who died at that period"

" Yep" Reese concluded " find the friend...find the father."

" Do you really believe we are looking in the right direction? The kid's family tree is quite something..but what does it have to do with Neal's disappearance?"

" Maybe nothing" Reese said, taking his coat " I'll talk to Rafaelle. In the meantime, not a word to anyone"

After Reese's departure, Diana cleaned the dishes. She felt incredibly alert. " It's the hormones" El had told her. " You'll see. As soon as you go past the first weeks...it's really great." Diana was in full active mode. She carefully put away the photos of Neal and Max - yes, she would definitely call him Max- in a file on her desk.

_Who is your father, kiddo?_

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**Three weeks earlier**

 

**_FBI Offices_ **

 

Peter Burke stood in his office with Jones. The news came as a shock for both of them, not because they liked the guy but because of all the memories attached to him.

" Why would anyone murder Gareth Fowler?" Peter murmured " he's been out of the loop since-"

" The Mentor stuff" Jones added.

_Operation Mentor. Kate. The music box. Neal._

Peter bit his lip. He was trying very hard to get Neal out of his sytem for good. Lately, it seemed to be working quite well. El was happy. He was happy too. Piji was adorable. Life was good. Thinking about Fowler reopened all the wounds. All of a sudden, Peter wanted to run to Reese and ask him about Neal's op in Italy.

_You have to let go, Burke._

" Did you try to call Neal recently?" Peter asked Jones, trying to sound passionless.

Jones couldn't help but smile.

" I did. He is away on a tour in China to find artists for the museum...I had to call the office.... his cell seems to be dead. His collegues told me he was away for a fortnight at least"

" China? Still working hard to maintain his cover I see..." Peter said, relieved.

 

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" Jones" Peter barked, coming down the stairs in a rush " why am I getting _bombarded_ by emails from the OCBC? What the fuck is going on in France?"

"Mmm. Heists on la Côte d'Azur mostly" Jones answered staring at his lap top. " Byzantine icon worth 10 years of my salary. Belonged to our friend Gregor Volotiev, whom, as you may remember, we met several time when he bought those forged-"

" I remember" Peter snapped " Gregor still throws those parties in his New York penthouse during Fashion week. I was invited there with Neal two years ago"

" Well, yes. Gregor would give anything to find his icon. The french are just warning us, you know, in case anything shows up on our end" Jones said, staring at the the icon. "This is a magnificent piece. The guys who did this...they are pretty gutsy...the security system of the villa is damn difficult to break-"

Peter laughed.

" No security system is invicible, Jones...that what guys like Caffrey do for a living.."

" I have some camera footage" Jones added " four guys, three of them armed. Of course, they all wear masks...wanna have a look?"

Peter leaned over Jones's shoulder. Three heavy built guys carrying weapons. The fourth guy however, was slender, fragile almost. He didn't carry a gun. Peter watched him marching in the corridor. There was something about the way he walked, almost like dancing...he turned around at one point, showing his back to the camera.

 _Nice ass_ , Peter thought to himself.


	19. Message in a bottle

**Two weeks earlier**

 

**_Lorenzini residence. Rome._ **

 

Massimo was miserable. He still couldn't cope with the fact François had dumped him like that, just with a letter. Oh, the letter was beautiful and everything but...it hurt.

_A lot._

Massimo had no need to read the letter again. He knew it by heart. He had tried to move on, work on his art...but everything about the sculpture reminded him of François. François had left for China and a few days after, Massimo received the letter on his doorstep. He had discussed this over the phone with Francesco and they both agreed to cancel his twenty first birthday party in St Jean Cap Ferrat. Massimo wasn't feeling up to it anyway. He kept blaming himself for the break up. Maybe he had been too pushy about François's love life? Maybe he should've been more patient?  
But patience wasn't easy when you were twenty..and madly in love. At one point, Massimo considered talking to Alberto to find out about the chinese tour. He could always buy a plane ticket, fly to China and try to convince François to change his mind.  
Guiseppe and Francesco had talked him out of it. " You musn't chase him like that...you have to accept his decision...It's hard, but things like that happen...maybe he couldn't come to terms with the fact he was in love with a guy..maybe he didn't want Philippe to know."  
Yes, it could be all of that.

Massimo opened his drawer, took the letter out of the envelope and tore it to pieces. He slid his fingers in the envelope before throwing it in the wastebasket. There was something in there...right at the bottom, _something small..._ he hadn't noticed before.

_Two minuscule white origami roses._

Massimo frowned. Origami roses were code for " I love you". Why would François send him mixed signals? You weren't supposed to send a proof of love when you were dumping someone. That was weird. Massimo thought about the letter. Something else surfaced in his mind.

François had written the letter in italian with " Dear Maximilian" instead of " Dear Massimo"

François was trying to send him a message. Massimo started to shiver. François could be in danger somewhere. Maybe he wasn't in China after all. Maybe some enemies from his past were lurking around...and Massimo was his sole hope. He rushed to his cache in the bedroom to get the list of cell phones François had given him that night.

_Dante, Clinton, Diana._

Massimo stared at the list. Who was the best one to call? Massimo was shy...and to have to explain everything to François's best friends...that was scary.

_In case anything happens to me..I want you to contact them._

Massimo took a deep breath. He was going to do this, no matter what.

Dante? No. He looked really strange. Clinton Jones? The FBI guy? It would be good to have the FBI involved...but Massimo still had doubts about Clinton. What if Clinton had been, at one point, François's lover? Ok, Clinton was now married..but that didn't prove anything. François had been married to Kate..and yet, François liked men. Maybe Clinton was bisexual? Like François?  
Massimo didn't really believe in bisexuality. He was convinced bisexual men were in fact gay men, too afraid to cope with their sexual orientations. François had a different opinion. " You're young, Massimo. The world isn't black and white...you can be attracted to women..and then one day...there is one guy that changes everything..it's not that clear cut."  
Clinton Jones looked so severe on the picture...  
Diana. He would call Diana. She looked sweet. And it would be easier to discuss this with a woman. Women understood everything. They were more mature when it came to relationships, at least that's what his father used to say.

4 pm. 10 am in New York. Diana should be at her office probably. He just needed to make sure her husband wasn't near by. Massimo dialed the number, his heart poundering in his chest.

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**_New York City_ **

 

Diana was walking in the streets. It felt good to be able to go out again. She needed to buy a few pants. Yes and blouses too. She was getting larger already. I have to stop eating so much, she thought, otherwise I'll turn into a fat cow. El managed to stay relatively slim...I need to be more careful.

Her personal cell started to vibrate in her pocket. She frowned at the international number. Code 39.

_Italy._

Her first instinct was to scream "Neal" into her cell phone, but her training kicked in. This could well be someone else.

" Yes?" she answered, her heart in her throat.

There was silence on the line.

" Is this Diana?" a young male voice with a perfect, poshy, british accent asked.

Diana stopped walking to sit on a bench near by. Her legs were all wobbly.

" Yes. This is Diana" she whispered " who am I talking to?"

" Hmm..my name is Massimo Lorenzini. You don't know me. I am a friend of François"

Diana gasped.

" Is your husband with you?" Massimo asked, slightly nervous " are you at the FBI?"

_Good Lord, Caffrey what the fuck have you told this kid?_

Diana decided to play along with Massimo. There will always be time for pay back later.

" I'm alone" she murmured " we can talk"

" Good" Massimo said, sounding much more relaxed " François gave me your number before leaving for China. He said I should use it if I had the feeling he was in trouble. Well, I have a feeling he is...and I'm scared."

Diana's mind was racing at full speed. Neal had obviously told the kid about the tour in China for the museum. That was part of the TPC plan. It was Neal's cover story for his departure to the safe house. Yet, something must've happened to raise suspicion in the kid's mind.

" Why are you scared, Massimo?" Diana asked softly " did you talk to François recently?"

" No. I wish I had...but.. François and I...we are..I mean...we were..." Massimo breathed into the cell.

" Massimo" Diana said, very calm " whatever you're about to tell is safe by me. You don't need to worry about that"

" François and I...we were together. For several months. He was...we were good....I still don't understand why he broke up with me-"

This was an interesting development. Diana wondered if the TPC was aware of this break up. Probably not, otherwise Reese would have known.

" When did François break up with you?"

" A few days after he left for China..I got his letter on my doorstep. This was about three weeks ago"

Diana made rapid calculation. Yep. Right after Neal's disappearance.

" What took you so long? You should've called earlier" she said, biting her lip.

" I had no reason so far..until today. I decided to throw the letter away..and I found something in the envelope" Massimo said, soundiing totaly desperate. " That's why I'm calling you now"

" What did you find?"

" Two tiny origami roses" Massimo answered " which means everything in that letter is bullshit. François never wanted to break up with me in the first place....and he called me by my real name...I mean, he called me Maximilian, although the letter was in italian...I think he is trying to send me a message..."

_Origami roses._

_  
_Diana didn't need Jones to translate those.

" Ok" Diana said, breathless " I think you may be right. François could be in trouble. You need to go to Colonel Rafaelle Mancino. He is running the-"

" I know who he is" Massimo said, very surprised " why should I go to him? Why don't you help me? You're FBI. You and your husband, you're both FBI."

" My what?" Diana said, her voice strangled.

_Caffrey, if you are still alive, I will never forgive you for this as long as you live._

" Clinton Jones" Massimo blurted out. At that point he repressed the urge to tell her everything. That François was most probaly head over heels in love with her husband, still. That this unrequited love had nearly ruined their relationship. He refrained himself since he really needed that woman's help. Those secrets would have to wait.

Diana nearly fell off the bench.

" Yes, well Clinton and I" she managed instead " we can't help for the moment, although we'd love too.."

_Maybe later, God I hope so. When we can prove Neal has been kidnapped. Then the FBI can intervene on foreign soil with the french or the italian police._

" So" Massimo said, his voice anguished, " you're not going to help me find him?"

" Oh, yes, I will. But you have to go to the TPC first. The Colonel will know what to do."

" I don't understand what François has to do with those guys. Their job is to search for stolen art...how will they help me?"

Diana fervently wished she could run all this by Reese before opening the can of worms. But she couldn't. It was too risky to tell the kid she would call back. She had to get him to run to the TPC now without telling anything to his father or to his brother. She felt so sorry for him. She was about to break his heart to pieces and there was nothing she could do about it.

" Massimo" she sighed " there is something I must tell you about François. He isn't what you think he is"

Massimo shuddered. What kind of terrible secret François had been hiding from him? Something about his tormented past, no doubt.

" His real name is Neal Caffrey" Diana said upfront, since there was no way to sugar coat any of this conversation, " he is an undercover Agent for the TPC. Before that, he used to be a criminal informant for the FBI. That's how my husband and I know him. We worked together in New York for four years. I know this is a lot for you to take in...and I'm sorry-"

Massimo started to feel dizzy. François had lied about his identity from the beginning. Did he lie about his feelings too? Was their love affair part of an ugly scheme of some sort? Did François _\- Neal-_ use him? And what for?

" Oh" he whispered. Diana could hear the unshed tears in the kid's voice. Sometimes she really hated her job.

" There is one thing, though" she added " Neal was on a misson. The Colonel will explain everything to you, I swear. Lying, unfortunately, was part of the mission, it comes with the job...but he wasn't lying to you about his feelings. That, at least, I can assure you"

" How can you be so sure?" Massimo asked, his voice wavering

_Because I saw the way Neal looks at you, because Moz told me Neal was in love with an art student..because Reese told me Neal jeopardized the whole op to have diner with you, because..shit._

" Neal has another very good friend-"

" Dante?" Massimo ventured, full of hope.

" Yes, Dante. He came to visit Neal regularly during the last couple of months. Neal told him he fell in love with an art student. That's you, right?"

Massimo beamed.

" Yes. That's me"

" Ok, Massimo. You have to give this letter to the Colonel. And you musn't say a word about this to anyone...you hear me...not even your father, not even your brother. You understand? It would be very dangerous for Neal if-"

" I'm going now" Massimo said hastily " can I call you from there? I'm a bit nervous-"

" Yes. And don't be nervous. The Colonel is a nice guy. I'll let him know you're coming" Diana said before hanging up.

She rushed on the street to hail a cab. She was less than five minutes away from Reese's apartment.

_Thank God._

 

 

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**_OCBC Offices Paris._ **

 

" Boss? May I come in?"

Stephane Durmont was in a foul mood. To be frank he had been in that state ever since Neal Caffrey had blown the italian op three weeks ago. They were just about to find the art. And then everything went south. Damn Caffrey and his sentimental shenanigans. The kid _\- the man now, he was turning 38-_ was trouble. Always had been. He was probably dead by now, which was a pity. God knows it was his fault. Having an affair with this Lorenzini kid. This was a disastrous idea in the first place. He would never allow something like that with one of his Agents at the OCBC. Rafaelle was too soft on Caffrey. Caffrey needed to be kept on a tight leash. Peter Burke would have known how to deal with him. Peter Burke was the only person in the world capable of handling Caffrey in the field. Stephane clenched his fist. On top of that, his boss was breathing on his neck about this byzantine icon. This was the icing on the cake. He didn't need some action on la Côte d'Azur. He already had plenty with the surveillance of the Lorenzini residence in St Jean Cap Ferrat. He just had a huge fight with Rafaelle about that.

_" Three weeks, Stephane..it's been three weeks and you're telling me you have no evidence on Francesco? What the fuck are you doing down there? Drinking rosé wine* and playing pétanque*? Should I send you some of my guys to give you a hand?" Rafaelle had said, sarcastic._

_" Screw you, Mancino. None of this would've happened if-"_

_" Stephane, it's about time you find some inside intel-"_

_" We're working on it, Rafaelle" Stephane had said, calming down " we have the cook. Adrienne. She has a past...that we can use against her. We'll get her to talk. But it takes time. So far, Francesco seems to be alone in the villa. Only with the servants. He is up at the wineyard most of the time..and also of course in Monaco with his sportscar dealership...you know..Porsche, Aston Martin.."_

_" I know" Rafaelle had answered " keep me posted if there is anything on your end"_

" Boss?" the young Agent was insisting " I think you need to see this. It's about the new heist, you know, the one with the icon-"

" What about it?" Stephane snapped " I have other things on my plate right now-"

" In fact....it's also about a heist in Monaco a week earlier. The two cases were not related since the Monaco heist is all about jewels, not ancient art..but in both cases the house keepers found something-"

" Why do I even care about this?" Stephane growled, his mood getting darker by the minute. " how come it took so long to find evidence on these crime scenes anyway?"

" The evidence were carefully hidden. In a planter for the first one. Behind a sofa, next to a wall for the second. That's why we didn't see them before...whoever dropped them made sure they would be difficult to find"

The young Agent took out two zip locked plastic bags from his file.

" Here. I've never seen anything like these before"

Stephane's heart stopped beating.

" I think I know _what_ this is" he whispered " in fact I think I know _who_ this is"

" A black origami swan and a black origami butterfly" the young Agent said " they are quite beautiful"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pétanque is a kind of bowling. Played in the south of France.  
> Rosé wine is highly fashionable at the moment in France, especially during the summer.  
> I won't go into a long wine ramble...I could be it's not the point right now.


	20. Butch&Sundance

**Two weeks earlier continued.**

 

**_Rome. Offices of the TPC_ **

 

" Hang on. Are you implying my brother kidnapped François, I mean Neal, and _possibly killed_ him?"

Massimo was sitting in the Colonel's office. They were in the middle of a long conf call with Diana and another FBI guy named Reese Hughes. Massimo wasn't sure who he was, Neal's former boss or something like that. His head was spinning. In less than an hour he had discovered a whole lot of disturbing facts about Neal's backstory. Neal was a reformed felon. Neal had spent four years - _four_ _years_ \- in a prison cell. The Kate story was true though. And she definitely died in a plane, an explosion so it seemed. Neal had been undercover for more than five months - _five months_ \- for the TPC, looking for some stolen art that Francesco was supposedly fencing. Neal becoming friends with him was part of the mission _\- that part really hurt-_ although everybody seemed to think Neal had feelings for him that went far beyond his mission - _that was the only good news._

" We're not sure..but Neal disappeared the same day he found the art...it's either that....or he's decided to go back to the life again...which would be a disaster for him of course. With his past, he will be facing major charges and a long sentence." Rafaelle added sadly " I don't believe in that option...but a part of me wishes he has..because that would mean he is alive, at least"

Massimo was heartbroken. It looked like his beloved brother was a criminal. It also looked like his beloved brother had murdered his lover.

" But Francesco...he would never hurt Neal. He liked-"

" He liked François" Rafaelle said " but I'm not sure he was thrilled when he found out who François really was..."

" I'm gonna go to St Jean Cap Ferrat and confront my brother" Massimo said, feverish " if Neal is captive I'll find him"

" No, you won't" Rafaelle said " it would be very dangerous for you and for Neal. We are going to take care of this. If Neal is still alive we will find him and bring him back to us, safe. That's my job, Neal is one of my Agents. That's what we do."

" Do you believe my brother stole this art? The one from the french museum? " Massimo asked, still in complete shock.

" We believe so, yes."

" Then I think the art maybe in France, in our villa in St Jean Cap Ferrat. We have a huge vault there, underneath the villa. That's where my father keeps most of his private collection. I remember Neal was supposed to go there with my father to estimate some paintings...and Francesco kept postponing this trip...something to do with the new security system..."

" We'll look into that. Go home now, Massimo. And remember..not a word to anyone for now."

Rafaelle watched the kid leave the building. He felt really sorry for him. His cell phone started to vibrate furiously in his pocket. Stephane had been trying to get in touch with him for a couple of hours already. And Stephane Drumont was not a patient man.  


" I know you disagree with me, Rafaelle..but this has Caffrey's fingerprints all over. He's out there, committing crimes, planning heists. Besides, have you seen the camera footage? The fourth guy..he really looks like Caffrey."

Rafaelle Mancino sighed. Stephane Durmont was on a war path.

" They all wear masks, Stephane..."

" Come on, Rafaelle, Neal was a great fan of la Côte d'Azur....it seems nothing has changed since I was chasing him with Peter Burke ten years ago. Unfortunately for us, Peter has failed to reform Caffrey. He is still a felon and a thief and-"

" Stephane" Rafaelle interjected " I understand you are deeply upset about this op...and so am I by the way, but I have this letter-"

" This letter doesn't prove anything. Caffrey could have decided to break up with the Lorenzini kid because he didn't need him anymore."

" I find that very hard to believe. What's with you, Stephane..in the old days you were much more supportive of Caffrey."

Stephane Drumont shook his head.

" In the old days with Burke..yeah sure..we both had a soft spot for Caffrey. He was a kid, for Christsake..and he was so fucking bright and charming.....neither of us wanted to see him ending in a prison cell. But now...he is a grown up guy. He lied to you, to everyone...he used his cover to go back to the life again."

" Why would he leave evidence? Don't you find that rather strange?" Rafaelle asked, puzzled.

" Because he is an _arrogant spoilt brat,_ that's why. In the old days he used to do that all the time, teasing us, leaving clues all over the place..it was driving Burke insane but I guess it was the whole point"

"You don't think Francesco is forcing him to commit those crimes?" Rafaelle blurted out, " Maybe Neal had to redeem himself when Francesco discovered he was working for us. Maybe this is Francesco's cruel revenge Mafia style..maybe he wants Neal to get caught and possibly killed during one of these heists..maybe-"

" You may be right Rafaelle..but that doesn't change the fact we need, I mean, I need, to arrest him"

" What are you going to do?"

" I'm sending a wanted alert via Interpol right this minute and I'm calling Peter Burke now. I'm sure he will be helpful. If we don't manage to catch Caffrey I'll ask Peter to give us a hand."

" I'm not sure involving Peter is a good idea" Rafaelle whispered.

" It's the best idea ever. After all, he caught him twice-"

" I think Caffrey is a touchy subject for Peter." Rafaelle added " Just..be careful when you call him"

" Well, if the Bureau shares your crazy kidnapping theory, they'll have to send us some FBI guys anyway. Caffrey is an american citizen. They might as well send Burke. He's the Caffrey expert"

" Yeah, he is. I'm not sure he'll be willing to catch Caffrey a third time, though"

" Why?" Stephane asked, surpised " Weren't they buddies in New York? Like Butch and Sundance?" _  
_

_Because Elizabeth Burke will go bonkers if her husband starts to chase Neal again. That's why._


	21. Interpol's most wanted

**Two weeks earlier continued**

 

**_FBI Offices Nw York City_ **

 

" I'm so sorry Agent Jones" the young girl at the switchboard apologized " I have this obnoxious french policeman from the OCBC on the line who wants to talk to Peter _immédiatement_ and I told him he's out to DC this morning and-"

" Put him through" Jones said " I'll take care of him"

" Hello Agent Jones, this is Stephane Durmont from the OCBC in Paris. I understand Peter is out of town?"

" I'm afraid he is" Jones answered, polite. His screen was blinking furiously, a new alert for most wanted from Interpol, so it seemed. Jones was dying to click on the announcement. That would have to wait for a couple of minutes. He just hoped Stephane Durmont wasn't going to take too much of his time. He had a lunch planned with Diana today to brief her on all the new cases. Diana was coming back- thank God- in a fortnight. " How can I help you, Sir?"

" Are you familiar with Neal Caffrey?"

Jones's heart flip flopped. Neal was supposed to be in China. Did something bad happen to him in France?

" Yes" he said, noncommittal " I am. Neal was part of the division. He is...hmm..a very good friend. Why?"

" Because I need Peter's help to arrest him, that's why" Stephane growled sounding very pissed off. " I thought I was done with Caffrey..but here he is, alive and kicking on la Côte d'Azur, committing crimes just like in the old days"

Jones was flabbergasted.

" Come again, Sir?"

" You heard me. Caffrey is back. He already performed two heists over here. Jewels first and then Gregor's Volotiev's icon, the one from the Sotheby auction-"

" Are you sure Sir? Last I heard Neal was on a big op in Italy for the TPC. Maybe you have been mistaken. I can't see that Neal would-"

" It's not a mistake. I wish it were. I was working with the italians on this op. Neal put the whole op in danger because he was having an affair with the mark. He disappeared on the evening he was supposed to debrief his team....at first we thought he blew his cover and got shot...which was already a tragedy in itself....but now we know for sure he is alive...and committing crimes"

" Do you have evidence?" Jones asked, " the guys we saw on the camera footage all wear masks-"

" I have. Origamis. Caffrey's classic signature."

Jones felt his throat constrict. Peter would never survive this one. Neither would his marriage.

" What kind of origamis?" he asked, biting his lip.

" A swan and a butterfly"

A message for me or Diana, Jones thought. Of course, Neal wasn't aware Diana was out of the office.

" What color?"

" Black, both of them. Which is unusual for Caffrey. I don't remember any black origamis...they were white or pink or yellow...blue even."

" Black" Jones whispered, aghast. " He is trying to send us a message. Black means he has a big problem...black means danger"

" How do you know?" Stephane asked, puzzled " Is there a langage of some sort? In the old days origamis were just a signature to annoy Burke-"

" I just know, ok?" Jones said, " Neal gave me clues one night when we were...never mind."

" So, I see you're on the same side as the Colonel. He believes Neal has been kidnapped by the Mafia guys and that they are forcing him to committ those crimes. I think this is a ridiculous theory...Caffrey doesn't need anyone to drive him on the dark side.."

" The Mafia?" Jones said, nervous " Why the Mafia?"

" Listen, Agent Jones, I'm sending you all the intel on the case. Neal was undercover for more than sixteen weeks with the Mafia. I have to say, despite I would like to break his neck right now this minute, that Neal did a remarkable job. Until he had a torrid affair, so it seems, with Francesco Lorenzini's brother. Francesco being our key suspect in this op.This, as you might have guessed already, was a very very bad idea. _A fucking disaster._ The Colonel and myself are in deep, deep trouble with our hierarchy. _Do I need to_ _draw you a diagram?"_

" No" Jones said hastily " I get the picture"

" Ok, well I would very much appreciate you take a look at the case with Peter when he comes back this afternoon. And then call me. Any time. Even if it's in the middle of the night in Paris. I don't mind. I need Burke and I need him now. Goodbye Agent Jones. Have a good day and say hello to Peter for me. The only good part in this whole mess is that the two of us will chase Neal in France...like in the old days. Makes me feel young all over again. I bet Burke will feel the same"

_Oh no, he won't._

 

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Jones spent the next hour reading the Lorenzini case. This was a freaking nightmare. He shot a glance at Neal's portrait, now on every screen of the Bureau. Interpol's most wanted it said. Neal looked ridiculously handsome. Shit. He decided to share this burden with Diana.

" Diana? Could you come in earlier? I'm sort of..lost here"

" Lost? Clinton? You're never lost. What's up? Did Peter beat the shit out of you?"

" No. Peter is in DC. It's Caffrey."

" Caffrey?" Diana asked, her pulse accelerating " What about Caffrey?"

" He's gone back to the life..on the French Riviera. Can you believe this? Two heists already-"

" Oh Clinton. Thank God." Diana was dancing with joy. " Thank God."

" Diana?" Jones said, astonished " did you just hear yourself? _Is this the hormonal thing?_ I'm not sure you should come back to work. I just said Caffrey-"

" Yes, yes I know what you said. And I maintain. Thank you, thank you thank you. All the deities of the universe. For more than three weeks now, Reese and I thought Neal might be dead somewhere, his feet in cement in an italian river."

" Reese? and you? Why were you aware of this case in the first place?" Jones choked on his donut.

" It's a long story" Diana sighed " I'll fill you in with everything Reese and I have discovered so far. It's quite a lot actually. When did you find out about the heists? Rafaelle didn't tell us anything about those. .."

" Just now. OCBC called me. The heists are a couple of weeks old..but the french police just spotted the origamis that incriminate Neal. Neal hid them on the crime scene. The house keepers were the ones that got hold of them"

" I see" Diana said, pensive. " Listen, I'll try to convince Mozzie to join us. Maybe he will have an idea. Can you book the conference room on the 23rd? No one will see Mozzie up there and we'll have privacy. I'm gonna call Reese too. You don't mind?"

" Not in the least" Jones said " chinese or italian? Hmm italian seems more appropriate. Do you think we'll sought everything out before Peter comes in?"

" At what time are you expecting Peter?"

" Around 3 pm, pending on which flight-"

" I seriously doubt we'll figure everything out in three hours...but four clever brains together..it can't hurt, can it?"

 

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" This is delicious" Mozzie said, licking his fingers " how much time do we have before the Suit walks in and hell breaks loose?"

" Half an hour" Reese voiced out " But we've made serious progress."

" It's like a giant puzzle. There are some pieces missing, but I have a feeling we're getting to the heart of the matter" Diana said, scratching her head.

" Let's sum up what we think" Jones added, writing everything on the big board with colored pencils. Peter liked big boards with bullet points. _In different colors._ Jones hoped this would prevent Peter from totally freaking out. He seriously doubted it though. Peter was never very rational when it came to Neal. And when it came to Neal being in real danger..well...Peter was completely volcanic.

" It's a good thing we're with you Clinton" Reese said, smiling " I don't think you would've enjoyed showing these photos to Peter all by yourself"

" Neal always had terrible taste in men" Mozzie said, rolling his eyes.

Jones looked at the photos. Neal and Massimo at the trattoria.

_Lovers._

 

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" Sir?" the receptionist seemed strangely nervous " Agent Jones wishes you to go straight to the conference room on the 23rd."

Peter was exhausted. Meetings in DC were not his cup of tea. Too much politics.

" Ok. I just need to check if there is anything urgent on my-"

" Agent Jones said you should come up as soon as you arrived. It's very urgent."

Peter frowned.

" A new case?"

The young receptionist lowered her lashes. It was a good thing Agent Burke couldn't see the most wanted picture of his former CI. She had carefully removed it from the wall, as Agent Jones had instructed her.

" I wouldn't know, Sir. But Agent Jones is up there since noon. He is expecting you."

Peter took two minutes to grab a cup of coffee.

" On my way"

The conference room door was closed. Peter carefully turned the door knob.

_Jones. Diana. Reese._

_Mozzie. Mozzie in a conference room at the Bureau._

_This couldn't be good._

" Is this an ambush? " he asked, feeling edgy.

" Come in, Boss" Diana said softly.

Peter looked at the wall with the big white board. There were photos of Neal. Neal with a young guy. There were files on the table. Lots of files. Jones had written sentences on the board in that meticulous writing of his. Peter started to read the first two.

_November 10th. 3.30 pm. Neal closes the op._   
_November 10th 11.30 pm. Neal never shows up at the meeting point Piazza di Trevi._

Peter swallowed.

" What the fuck is going on?" he asked " what happened to Neal in Rome?"

" Sit down, Peter" Reese said, gentle. " This is going to be a long meeting"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's about time to throw Peter into the loop.  
> This is so not going to go well...


	22. Casa Burke

**A week earlier**

 

 

**_Casa Burke_ **

 

Peter was fully awake. There was no way he was going to fall asleep again. He didn't know what to do. He had flat out refused to join Stephane in France to try to catch Neal. There were FBI Agents in France posted at the american embassy. They could do the job. Rafaelle and Stephane had insisted but there was no way Peter would leave everything to chase Neal again.

_Too tempting. Too male. Too beautiful._

Peter was restless. At some point, he would have to confide in El. The mere thought terrified him.

Peter didn't know what to think. Words, bits and pieces of informations were swirling in his tormented mind. Peter Burke was a clever man. He had carefully weighted every option, looked into dozen different scenarios. None of them seemed to make any sense. Why would Francesco Lorenzini force Neal to go back to the life? Revenge of some sort? Just for the fun of it? And what about this kid? Peter shuddered.  
Massimo. Maximilian. Adopted twice. Crazy story. Reese and Diana seemed to think he was playing a key part in this tragic course of events. But which part? Who was the kid's real father? So far, none of the investigations in Italy as regards Francesco's close friends had produced any leads. Nothing. The kid's father remained a total mystery.

One thing was certain, though. Peter had thoroughly studied the photos.

_A lot._

Ten, maybe twenty, times a day.

Peter had read the letter.

_A lot._

Peter had been told about the roses.

White roses.

_Pure, secret, love._

_Yes._

It was possible Neal had found a new life in Italy after all. It was obvious the kid was in love with Neal. Peter clenched his fists, remembering Neal's dreamy expression, his shirt rolled on his fore arms, picking some spaghetti in Massimo's plate. Peter knew that expression. Neal definitely had gotten laid that day, presumably just before lunch.

_God._

_It was possible he was becoming crazy with jealousy._

 

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" Peter" El tip toed in the kitchen " you've been up most of the night." She rested her chin on Peter's shoulder, from behind. " You want some hot chocolate? With latte? "

Peter sighed. He kept a file on his lap.

" I'm not thirsty, hon"

" Peter, you've been restless for more than five nights in a row" El said, gently massaging his shoulders. " You're exhausted...and you look miserable. What's up?"

" It's nothing, hon. It'll go away..."

El frowned.

 _" It's nothing, it'll go away_ is code for Neal. Is Neal in trouble?"

Peter remained silent.

" Peter?" El asked, facing him, anxious " is this about Neal?"

Peter kept looking down, refusing to meet El's gaze.

" Peter" she whispered softly, cupping Peter's chin." You can tell me about it. I won't go bananas. I promise. Did something happen to Neal in Italy?"

" It's complicated" Peter said, his fingers curling around El's " I don't know what to do..."

" Try me"

" You sound just like him.." Peter said, his voice breaking.

" Let's go back to bed, Peter. This is the kind of discussion I'd rather have in our bedroom. Not in the kitchen."

 

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" Do you blame him?" El asked, her hand caressing Peter's thigh. " Do you blame him for ruining this op, for wanting to see his lover one last time before-"

" I don't. It's a bit like with Kate...that's who he is, that's why -"

" You love him" El stated, very calm " In fact that's one of the reasons we both love him. Neal is a romantic"

" El" Peter said, shocked.

" And it's tearing you apart. This thing with Massimo."

" It's not-"

" Peter, you always thought Neal was yours, even when you were chasing him..even before you captured him..."

" I didn't-"

" Peter, we've been married for more than a decade" El said " I know how your heart works."

Peter watched his wife intently.

" I guess you're right. There's a part of me....I understand Neal had to move on..but there is also a part of me... I know it's very selfish of me- "

El snuggled behind Peter. " You're possessive..when it comes to people you love"

Peter rested the palm of his hand on El's hip. " Thanks, hon...for listening to all this.."

El stood up, pushing the bedspread aside.

"Massimo" she said, pensive " he reminds me of someone..."

Peter frowned. " Does he? Who?"

El sighed, staring at the photos. There was something about this boy, something about the mouth...or the smile.

" I don't know, Peter. Some old case of yours...when you were working with Neal...you used to share stuff with me sometimes...I'll have to think about it... "

Piji started to giggle at that point, bringing a smile on Peter's lips.

" Our boy is hungry. I'll go and get him. Do you mind if I feed him here? In our bed? "

" I don't mind" El said, " I'll go downstairs to prepare his bottle."

It always made her all warm inside, seeing Peter like this. Piji was overjoyed. He was a much easier baby these days. El suspected a lot had to do with Peter's attitude.

Peter smiled, listening to Piji's third fit of giggles. Piji was into the giggle phase. He was so cute. Peter would've never imagined babies that age could be so cute.

As El came back and languidly sprawled herself on the bed, Peter settled Piji in his lap. Those moments of pure domestic bliss gave Peter a reason to believe he had made the right choice after all.

" Peter" El whispered " If you want to go to Europe to find Neal...then just do it. I won't hold it against you"

" Hon?" Peter was flabbergasted " but we _both_ agreed-"

 " This was _then_ and this is _now_ " El answered, her tone deadly serious " If it were you...if you were held captive somewhere...what do you think Neal would do?"

" He would try to find me" Peter said,without any hint of hesitation.

" I think you should consider flying to France as soon as possible" El murmured " I think Neal needs your help. I think Neal needs his family"

Peter felt his guts twisting.

" I can't, Hon, I really can't-"

" I'm just leaving the door open for you" El said, kissing her son's minuscule fingers.

" Hon" Peter begged " how can you expect me to make the right decision? It's so-"

El brushed a light kiss on her husband's parted lips.

" Just follow your heart, Peter Burke"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. This is the part where my deep love for Elizabeth Burke comes out really strong.  
> We know from canon El is capable of huge mood swings as regards Peter's relationship with Neal.  
> I truly believe she would evolve on the matter. She feels really safe now, as a wife and a mother. Her marriage is no longer in shambles. Her husband has turned into the father she always wanted.  
> In a nutshell, I think she no longer feels threatened by Neal.  
> Peter, on the other hand, is still afraid of his feelings for Neal.  
> We'll see how this goes.


	23. Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the chapter where we stop going backwards to return to Neal. It's about time we pick up right after we left Neal and Francesco in chapter 14 " Hearts&Coffins"

**Now**

 

 

_Saint Jean Cap ferrat. Lorenzini Residence._

 

" So, Neal. What do you think of Adrienne's tiramisu? Brilliant, isn't it? Mayber even better than the Colonel's"

Francesco was sipping his second expresso, intently scrutinizing Neal. "I'm happy you ate something. As I said earlier, you're getting too thin. I want you to be in good shape. We still have a lot of work to do, down here"

" Francesco, I've had enough. Three heists in five weeks...the french police must be all over the place. It won't be long before they catch me. Is that what you want? You would like me to rotten in a french prison cell for the rest of my life? Am I supposed to get caught and keep silent? Otherwise you'll murder the rest of my friends in the US? Is this the plan? Because if that's the case, you might as well put a bullet through my head right now. I'm never- _you hear me, never, ever-_ going back to prison. I'm done with prisons."

Francesco chuckled. " Caro Mio, that's not the plan. I'm not sending you back to prison. That would be cruel."

" Stop calling me like that " Neal yelled, throwing his spoon on the table.

" Temper, temper. Adrienne, dear, could you bring Neal some decaf? He doesn't need caffeine"

Neal narrowed his eyes. There seemed to be a hidden agenda behind all this. Neal couldn't figure out what it was. God, he felt so lonely. So far, his messages in a bottle seemed to have failed. Massimo must've thrown the enveloppe...the origami roses were so small..

Bur surely the french police must've found the black origamis by now. The regular french police wouldn't have a clue... _but Stephane Durmont would_. Neal fervently wished Stephane would discuss this matter with Rafaelle. And then, possibly, with the FBI. Peter would be highly distressed at first, thinking Neal had gone back to the life.

But Jones would understand. Jones understood origamis.

_I'm in danger. Help me, please._

" Neal" Francesco said, " I've modified the schedule. Too many policemen around here. We need to leave Saint Jean Cap Ferrat sooner than I thought. The big thing will happen in a week. In the meantime, I think you should practice a little. I've planned something simple for tomorrow afternoon. The Picasso museum in Antibes. Easy. There is a small room next to the entrance, right behind the cash desk, without any security system. At lunch time, the regular hostess takes a break. She is replaced by an art student, a temp if you prefer. You'll just have to charm her while one of our guys takes this drawing out of the room."

Neal looked at the drawing. " Faune chevelu 1946" 

_Beautiful._

" Francesco? Are you out of your mind? You want us to break into that museum in broad daylight? This is dangerous. And what if the girl senses something?"

" She won't. You'll have to perform the Caffrey magic."

" There will be cameras in the entrance hall-"

" That's not an issue"

" It is for me. I will be recognized"

" Neal, that's the whole point" Massimo smiled.

 

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_**New York City. FBI Offices**_

 

There was a third heist today in Saint Jean Cap Ferrat " Peter said, " a Matisse. No origami on the crime scene this time, but Stephane thinks it's Caffrey all the same"

" Peter, this is not going to end well..there seems to be a pattern here. Those heists...they become more and more dangerous as time goes by...imagine if the little girl had walked out of the home cinema...." Jones was devastated.

"I know " Peter said, his eyes on the computer. OCBC had already sent a full report. One had to admit Stephane's guys were efficient.

" Peter? " Jones breathed, " I know it's not for me to say...but- "

" I'm not going there, Jones."

"It is because of El?" Jones had to ask.

" No. El and I...we talked about this...about Neal "

"Then why? He's one of us, Peter. If he is innocent...if he is manipulated by Francesco- God knows why- then you should go there. Help the french. Bring him back safe. With us."

" I can't. I mean, I could. Bring him back safe, here...but- "

" Peter " Jones was confused. " So? "

_Because I don't trust myself. Because I don't know how to live around Neal without claiming him. Because if I bring him back...I will never let him go._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pheww...I'll never ever try to write something like that again. I swear.   
> Flashbacks within flashbacks....in different countries.  
> From a narrative standpoint it's a nightmare.  
> I hope nobody got lost on the way.  
> When I started writing Shadows I had just finished my screen writing course in Paris.  
> One lesson I learnt while I was painfully struggling with Shadows : writing has nothing to do with screen writing.


	24. Butch&Sundance II

**48 hours later**

 

**_Saint Jean Cap Ferrat Lorenzini Residence 6 am._ **

" I'm heading for Monaco" Francesco murmured in Adrienne's ear " are you going to be ok, dealing with the police?"

" They've been breathing on my neck long enough...might as well give them what they want"

" Do we need to rehearse one more time?" Francesco whispered, leaving loves bites on her neck- _God, she was beautiful_ \- " you don't know anything about the stolen art, but you remember I moved some stuff out of the vault a while ago, which is true by the way. I did. Move the art. The art is safe in Monaco"

" Is Igor keeping it for you?"

" Yeah. His family owes me"

_" I realized yesterday when I watched the TV that I knew Mr Caffrey since he came to visit regularly for the last couple of weeks" Adrienne recitated " I waited until you left because I was afraid"_

" Perfect"

_" When I served diner to the two of you on the eve of the Picasso Museum heist, I overheard by accident a discussion about a big coup in Paris in the coming days"_

Francesco couldn't believe his luck. Adrienne was the first woman he was prepared to settle down with. His father would be so pleased. It was a real shame his father wouldn't meet her in a very long time. Everything was ready for his disappearance in a tropical paradise. A tropical wedding would be nice anyhow. He would miss his family though. Money was not an issue. Even with Massimo's share - the kid was going to be so rich with the trust fund- there was still plenty left. Francesco smiled. This would be Massimo's Christmas present. It was about time the kid found out who is real father was.

" Where is he by the way?" Adrienne asked, her long black hair cascading on her shoulders

" Neal? He was taken care of right after the Picasso heist. He is safe somewhere in the Paris suburbs"

Francesco marveled at how easy it had been to mind fuck Caffrey. Of course, the drugs helped too.

" Be careful" Adrienne said with one last kiss.

" I'll be fine. See you in a few days in the city of love" Francesco said, grabbing his coat " I'm taking the back exit, you don't have to close the door behind me, they'll find it anyway when they manage to open the vault"

 

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**_Rome Offices of the TPC 10 am_ **

 

" So, now we're sure. Neal is alive"

Massimo was torn between pure joy and deep angst. Neal was alive and alas committing crimes.The latest heist at the Picasso museum had gone south. Massimo watched Neal on the camera footage. He looked thinner but ok, still. Neal was now most wanted with all sorts of different police chasing him. OCBC, the regular french police and also, so it seemed, the FBI.

" How are you holding up, Massimo" Rafaelle asked kindly " I guess it must be difficult to hide all this from your family"

" I try to avoid talking to my brother. It's not that difficult actually. I always sort of know where he is...the wineyard, Monaco, Saint Jean Cap Ferrat...our private butler keeps his schedule for me. I tend to leave messages on his cell when he is in a meeting. We talk...but not that much. As for my father..that's a different story. Guiseppe sees through me so easily....Most of the time I lock myself in my studio to work on my art.  
Guiseppe thinks I'm still recovering after François. I let him believe that. Anyway, my father is leaving tomorrow to open our chalet in Cortina. We always spend Christmas there. We're supposed to meet in Cortina in a fortnight, after I finish class.

" I believe the french police is going to break into your residence in Saint Jean Cap Ferrat anytime soon. OCBC is waiting for the judge to issue the warrant. Your written statement about your suspicions on the stolen art was very helpful. I understand how difficult it was to incriminate your own brother since you're not absolutely sure..but you realize it was the only way to move forward on this case?"

" Yeah" Massimo breathed " I did it for Neal. It'll break my father's heart when he finds out-"

" Hopefully we won't have to wait for too long. I'm leaving today for Saint Jean Cap Ferrat because I want to be there when the fench police breaks into your home. I hope we'll find Neal and the stolen art"

" Neal" Massimo gulped " Is he gonna be ok?"

" I'm doing my best to make sure he will be. That's why I want to be there. Neal is one of my Agents..and a damn good one. I want to bring him back safe as soon as possible"

" Can I come with you?" Massimo asked " It is my home after all..and if Neal is there I would like-"

" No, someone might see you and tell your brother"

" The french police" Massimo whispered " they think Neal is a criminal..he isn't-"

" I know. But there are a lot of other guys who believe Neal is innocent. The FBI will be sending someone. I hope I was convincing enough this time...I want Peter Burke to come and give us a hand. He knows Neal better than anyone.

" Peter Burke" Massimo asked " who is he?"

" We didn't have time to get into all the details in our last meeting " Rafaelle replied, gentle " you remember I told you Neal was sentenced for four years before becoming a CI?"

Massimo remembered all too well.

" Yeah..that's where he met Diana and this other guy...I can't remember his name-"

" Reese Hughes. Reese is an old friend of mine. He was running the White Collar division at the time. Peter Burke was Reese's Hughes best Agent. In fact, Peter was the Agent that caught Neal in the first place and sent him to prison for four years. When Neal escaped to find his fiancée, Peter Burke caught him again. They made a deal. Rather than sending Neal back for another four years, Peter took him on board to help him chase white collar criminals. They became friends. _Caffrey and Burke_. The best closure rate of the Bureau. Their collegues called them Butch and Sundance."

_Butch and Sundance._

_Who is he François? The man you're still in love with, the man you're saving yourself for?_

" Peter Burke was Neal's handler, that's the correct word in FBI terminology, handler" Rafaelle added.

_Handler._

_Lover more likely._

" Butch and Sundance" Massimo said " I'm not sure I like this analogy"

Rafaelle frowned.

" It's just a joke Massimo, they were close friends...thus the nickname"

Massimo looked shattered. Rafaelle wondered if the kid wasn't going into a catatonic stage. Maybe this was too much for him. He had just turned twenty one after all.

" Butch and Sundance" Massimo murmured " in the end, they choose to die together, don't they?"

 

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_**Washington DC. FBI Offices. 8 am  
** _

 

" That's it. You're going"

" Sir, I-"

" It's an order" Bancroft barked.

An order. You were not supposed to discuss orders from Bancroft. Unless you wanted to get fired.

" He didn't shoot he girl" Peter said, desperately trying to buy some time.

" Peter" Bancroft growled " we're talking _murder_ here. The girl is in a critical state. Chances are she won't make it. She is a nineteen year old art student. The french media are _going insane_ down there. This is the fourth heist in a bit less than six weeks...Neal's photo is plastered all over local newspapers and regional TV. This is serious business we're talking about. Wether Neal is doing all this on his own volition- which I seriously doubt- or someone is twisting his arm, doesn't really matter at this stage, you need to catch him, before it's too late"

" Neal isn't a murderer, the camera footage is pretty clear about that"

" Peter" Bancroft hissed " I was just on the phone with Interpol. The next time Neal and his bunch of bozos burst into a museum, the french police will go nuts. They won't read him his rights for Christsake, _they are just going to blow his brains out._ Do you get that?"

" Neal doesn't carry a gun. They wouldn't-"

" Go and tell that to the french police" Bancroft yelled " have you talked to your friend Stephane recently? He is pretty pissed. He says he can't guarantee Neal's safety in case.....come on Peter, you know how this works, overtrained Agents, gunfires....you've been there yourself"

Peter clenched his jaws so tight it hurt.

" We've made reservations for you today at lunch time. You're flying to Paris. OCBC will meet you there and a private plane will take you to the south of France. You should be in Saint Jean Cap Ferrat around 1 am local time. Tomorrow morning, first thing- providing our friends from OCBC obtain the warrant- you'll break into the Lorenzini residence with the french police and you'll find whatever there is to find. The french police seems to believe the stolen art is there. Maybe Neal is also captive somewhere, locked in a basement or something..although I seriously doubt whoever embarked him on this crazy story would leave him behind, especially after the Picasso heist."

" What happens if there is no art and no Neal?" Peter asked.

" In that case, we're in trouble...especially Stephane and Rafaelle since they both decided to play it that way. But you guys might find clues in there, something that help us understand this mess. Besides, OCBC seems to have inside intel. Francesco Lorenzini's cook. She is on the verge of talking, so it seems"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a deep profound love for Bancroft too.  
> I wished they had fleshed him more. He is a great character.  
> Cortina is a wonderful ski resort in Italy.  
> Who said this would become easier? Now we are in three different locations...with Europe/US time zone.  
> Yeee, would be so much easier to film.  
> Nevermind.


	25. Manipulation

**The next morning**

 

_**Saint Jean Cap Ferrat Lorenzini Residence** _

 

" So now we know" Peter said, standing in Neal's room. " We're dealing with a socio path"

" Those people" Rafaelle said, " aside your wife and Reese, are they members of your unit?"

Peter let his finger linger on June's photo.

" Not all of them. This is June, Neal's landlady... and this is Mozzie...a friend of Neal"

Diana, El, June, Mozzie. Four heists. Four lives saved.

" I'm sorry" Stephane said, " you were right all along. Neal was manipulated..."

Peter's heart sank. Neal must've freaked out for five weeks, desperate, trying to protect the people he loved the most.

" I should've come earlier" Peter murmured " I should've known...God he must have thought we had given up on him-"

" You should put both of these guys under protection " Stephane pointed out, looking at Jones's and Reese's photo " you do realize, Peter that should be under protection too"

Peter laughed.

" Well, that's not gonna happen"

" I don't know what worries me the most" Stephane breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose " the fact Francesco planned this sickening game or the fact he left all those evidence behind, for us to find them"

 

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**_Later the same day. Saint Jean Cap Ferrat Police Station_ **

" You think she is telling the truth?" Rafaelle asked, nervous

" I wouldn't know..I don't speak french anyway" Peter sighed " her body langage seems ok "

" It's either that or she is a damn good actress. I guess we'll have to wait for Stephane's final debrief."

Adrienne Letellier had walked into the police station in the afternoon. She seemed very agitated. Her story was plausible with lots of interesting details on Neal's captivity and Francesco's whereabouts. She had been cross examined twice already, this time by Stephane himself.

" I wish those idiots from the local police had done their job properly" Peter hissed " no one knew about this secret exit in the vault"

" Yeah. Stephane cut their head off this morning....it seems the previous owner of the house never informed the town hall when he built this anti-atomic shelter in the fifties"

" I guess that's how Francesco took Neal in and out of the house without anyone noticing" Peter said, somber.

" I'm pretty sure the stolen art was in the vault" Rafaelle added " Francesco must've removed it as soon as he found out who François d'Arcourt really was"

Both men started to type a debrief on their lap tops.

" We know how Francesco was manipulating Neal" Rafaelle said, his fingers on the keyboard " but I still don't see the final goal here. Francesco put himself into a lot of trouble just for a simple revenge scenario. I know the Mafia can be very cruel sometimes when it comes to betrayal...but he could've got ridden of Neal much earlier in the process-"

" I know. Right from the start with the jewel heist in Monaco. All it takes is a phone call to the local police and _bam._ Neal gets caught with the jewels or Neal gets killed if he tries to defend himself"

" It doesn't sound like Neal to remain captive like that without trying to escape.." Rafaelle voiced out, pensive " I suspect he was drugged half of the time"

" Yeah" Peter said heartbroken " they have pretty efficient drugs nowadays"

_I'll find you Neal, or I'll die trying._


	26. Butterfly 2009

**Paris. A couple of days later**

 

**_Le Louvre._ **

 

Peter walked past le Louvre, heading for his lunch with Rafaelle and Stephane. It was a slow day and they weren't making any progress so far. He missed his wife, he missed his team. He wished something would happen.

_Like now._

Most of the big museums were packed with police officers. Tourists were filing complaints about endless queues and endless body search.

Paris was beautiful at this time of the year, ten days before Christmas. Peter hoped he would be back home in time for Christmas eve.

_Home._

El was super cool with all this. Peter was waiting for the other shoe to drop. " Just bring Neal back to us, Peter" she kept saying on the phone. " you'll figure something out later, you always do"

_Figure out what exactly?_

Peter ambled past the waiter at the Cafe Marly to join his collegues.

" I have something on my mind" Stephane said, ordering _escalope à la crème with fricassée de champignons des bois._

" I have lots of things on my mind" Peter grumbled, glancing suspiciously at his _pot au feu_ \- El strongly recommended this dish but he wasn't so sure anymore- " might as well share"

" When you think about it, here we are, _the three of us_ , chasing Caffrey, like in the old days"

" So?" Peter frowned " what about it?"

" Maybe that's what Francesco had in mind in the first place" Stephane said " maybe that's what he wanted all along, to get us here."

" I thought about that too" Rafaelle added " when the next coup happens, we'll be around, if not on the crime scene, then near by at least"

" Maybe he wants us to watch Caffrey die if something goes wrong" Stephane pointed out.

" Maybe he wants us to get caught in the fire if something goes wrong" Rafaelle said " I've been looking into all my cases over more than thirty years and I don't see any connexion between Francesco and myself, other than this case of course"

" What about you, Peter?" Stephane asked " did you cross Francesco's path during your carreer?"

" Honestly? No. We looked into that a couple of weeks ago when I found out about Neal...I was never involved with the italian Mafia...not directly"

" Ok. We're just getting paranoid, that's all" Stephane concluded " let's go back to the office"

 

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**_Offices of OCBC Paris._ **

 

" Some more coffee, monsieur?" the young female assistant hovered around Peter and Rafaelle. She didn't know what to do with _these two._ Her boss seemed under a lot of stress lately. FBI and TPC. That was unusual. She made sure they had everything they needed, wifi, newspapers, secured lines to call their respective teams long distance and all the rest of it.

" Yes, please" Peter smiled, holding his cup - God, he was jet lag still- the sleepless nights didn't help either.

" Peter" Rafaelle said, scrutinizing his lap top " it seems my boys have found something interesting in the Francesco Lorenzini saga"

" Whatizit?" Peter yawned " a hidden mistress, a long lost child?"

Rafalle laughed.

" Nothing that exciting, I'm afraid. Still, it opens new possibilities. Did you guys know that Francesco was a Harvard grad?"

" What?" Peter jumped out of his seat " are you sure your boys are not mistaken? Enzo Lorenzini, the lawyer with the tragic fate..he's the Harvard boy"

" Peter" Rafaelle said, rolling his eyes " I know who Enzo is. No, this is Francesco we're talking about. We've spent gazillion of hours looking into his friends, his deceased friends, his deceased friends with children on the side...now we're sort of getting into his youth. He went to the Bocconi Institude in Milan as an undergrad and then he took a master's degree at Harvard."

" That's weird" Peter said " why would he do that?"

" It's not that weird when you think about it. This was a long time ago, before the US branch of the family murdered Enzo. It makes sense Francesco would spend time with his american cousins. Mafiosi tend to maintain family bonds accross borders"

Peter grabbed his cell to call Diana. Jones would be better for that matter, he was a Harvard boy after all. But Jones was locked in a safe house somewhere with Reese. Peter felt bad for him. _Being locked in a safe house with Reese must be hell._

" Diana?" Peter muttered " sorry to disturb you...I know you're still at home but Jones is unavailable right now. We just found out Francesco Lorenzini is a Harvard grad. I want you to log into the Harvard alumni data base and see what you can find. I have no idea what year you should be investigating but he's about the same age as me..so go and figure it out"

" Well, _hello Boss_ , you seem in a good mood today" Diana croaked - she had been asleep for once, it was early still in New York- Ok. Consider it done. El is dropping by this morning to have breakfast with me by the way. She is bringing PIji with her. Should I say hello?"

" Good luck with Piji" Peter smiled " he's pretty easy going these days. Hug them both for me"

" She is also taking her very handsome bodyguard with her" Diana whispered " I didn't know the Bureau owned guys like that in the first place. _Eye candy_. Mine isn't half as good looking- not that I care anyway-.

" What?" Peter barked.

" Well, yeah. Jones and Reese are locked up in a safe house somewhere in West Virginia while the rest of us have bodyguards lying on our doorsteps. I thought you asked for this"

" I did" Peter answered, slightly annoyed " I didn't expect they would send GQ models"

" Hmm..I won't go into how Mozzie is coping with a bodyguard following him all day long. I'm considering writing a novel about that when we're done with all this shit"

Peter couldn't help but laugh.

" What about you, Peter. French male or french female?

" Both. I have two. The french are really nervous."

" Does El know about the french female bodyguard?"

" She does. We talked about this. We're fine"

" I'll let you know if I find something, Boss" Diana said before hanging up. She started texting Jones immediatly.

_Hello hot shot, how are u?_

_Bored_

_What are u doing?_

_Listening to Reese's rants about the security system here_

_lol_

_What can I do for u?_

_I need your password for the Harvard Alumni data base_

_?_

_Some stuff for Peter_

_?_

_Some stuff for Neal_

_........_

_Clinton?_

_Butterfly 2009._

_Lol_

_Shut the fuck up Diana._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my head canon Jones is the only Harvard boy. I don't know why...  
> Let's say it's artistic licence...lol.  
> As for Jones's password, I'm not sure in what year he met Neal. Maybe it should be Butterfly 2008....  
> I need to investigate.  
> Lol.


	27. The Harvard Grad

**Offices of OCBC Paris continued.**

 

" Seriously, Rafaelle, I'm considering taking a nap" Peter yawned, stretching his legs and slumping down in his chair " wake me up if something happens"

" Go ahead, my friend, go ahead" Rafaelle replied, still busy with his debrief. " It's just the two of us in this conference room anyway. I won't tell"

Peter drifted to sleep, wondering what Diana would find in the Harvard data base.

Peter must've slept only a couple of minutes because he felt totally out of it when Stephane walked into the conference room, white as a sheet.

" Gentlmen" he said, his voice barely a whisper " we have a situation"

Peter rubbed his face with the palm of his hands " a Neal situation?"

" Don't tell me he is attempting something at le Louvre" Rafaelle said, joking.

" We have a hostage situation at the Grand Palais" Stephane blurted out " we need to get there now"

Peter's heart stuttered. Of all the scenarios carefully laid out so far, this one was never on the list.

" Is Neal held hostage?" Peter asked, suddenly fully awake " because if he is, I'm going in there _-fuck the protocol-_ and I'm gonna find Francesco Lorenzini and beat the shit out of him until-"

" Oh. Peter" Stepahne said, aghast " It's so much worse than that-"

Peter flinched. " Worse? In what way?"

" Neal isn't held hostage. He is leading the whole thing"

" _He is what?"_ Peter yelled " Are you trying to tell me Neal is threatening innocent people inside the Grand Palais? This is insane. Neal is non violent. He would never-"

" I was on the line with the RAID. They seem to take Neal pretty seriously. He has expressed some demands."

_The RAID. The elite of the french police, specialized in severe crisis. Hostage situations, terrorrist attacks, mentally disordered fanatics._

Peter started to shiver, thinking about the RAID's motto.

_Negotiate if possible, if not neutralize_

_Neal, what did you put yourself into this time?_

" What kind of demands?" Rafaelle asked, laying a soothing hand on Peter's shoulder. " Full immunity?"

" That's the first demand" Stephane swallowed.

" What if-"

" He will start hmm..killing people.The first hostage on his list seems to be a young woman"

" What's the second demand?" Peter asked, clenching his jaw.

 _" You"_ Stepahne answered " Neal's been pretty adamant about that. He wants no one else to negotiate with"

 

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**New York City the same day. 9 am  
**

 

" He's a cutie, isn't he? " Diana was on all four, carefully picking up some discarded toys.

" Yeah. He 's in the throwing cycle nowadays. He throws things on the floor and then he screams until you give them back to him" El said, nuzzling the baby's neck " It's good exercise..but at the end of the weekend Peter and I are both exhausted"

" El? I have some urgent stuff for Peter" Diana said, apologectic " It won't be long"

" I'll start fixing our breakfast" El sing songed " I've brought everything with me. I want you to taste those blueberry muffins...they're awesome"

Diana opened her file. She glanced at the photos of Neal and Massimo. _Maximilian,_ she corrected herself, the kid didn't look italian at all.

She logged Jones's password - butterfly 2009, Clinton was definitely a romantic sap- and typed _Francesco Lorenzini_ in the search engine.

_Francesco Lorenzini. Class 1987._

" Here you are" Diana hummed " Just to be sure I'll run class 1987 and 1988. Let's see if you made friends with someone in the US, Francesco. Someone that may ring a bell"

She clicked on Class 1987 and a list of names popped up, neatly organized in alphabetical order.

" Jee...this is a long list" she muttered to herself.

" Decaff?" El offered " you're not allowed coffee, I suppose?"

Diana started to scroll down the A B C list " Nah, not allowed. Decaff sucks though"

As it turned out, Diana didn't need to scroll for long.

" Oh shit" she said " holly shit. I can't believe this"

The third name on the A list took her breath away.

_Adler Vincent. Harvard Business school. Finance._

Diana searched for the year book picture; her heart poundering in her chest.

" Oh my God" she whispered, looking at the picture of Vincent Adler in his mid twenties " Oh my God"

She grabbed the photo of Maximilian and Neal- _Reese had been right all along_ \- the kid was the reason for all this mess.

_You're the spitting image of your father at the same age, Maximilian._

" What's up, Diana? " El asked, entering the living room with muffins and pancakes " there seems to be lots of swearing involved-"

" Look at this" Diana said " Look at them"

El froze. " I knew he reminded me of someone" she said, her fingers clutching Maximilian's photo " I told Peter the other day, before he went to France-"

She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes wide.

" Diana, if-"

" This is all about revenge" Diana jumped on her feet, frantic " Francesco met Adler in his mid twenties. They became close friends although I suspect their lives diverted afterwards since Adler stayed in he US and Francesco went back to Italy. They must've kept in touch over the years though..." Diana's mind was spiralling back to the Fairchilds. The new will dated March 2011. Precisely after Adler had been shot.

_It all made perfect sense._

" El" Diana said, anxiety tearing her guts apart " this was about Peter all along. Francesco..he's been using Neal to get to Peter. Peter is the target"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are. Buckets of angst to come, before we move on to clearer skies.  
> I guess, for those who are still trying to read this story that you've learnt a lot about the fench police system ( very useful, no doubt lol) and the south of France ( much more useful, lol. The Picasso Museum in Antibes is awesome by the way). The Grand Palais ( where the next part will take place ) is also beautiful. It's not a museum per say, but a magnificent gallery with lots of art exhibits.  
> I always liked Adler. I thought he was a wonderful vilain. I wanted him to continue poisoning our boys lives, even after his death. When I wrote the whole plot down last year, I wanted Adler to come haunting Peter and Neal with a revenge of some sort. Yeah, I'm evil like that. Since Adler was dead...well I had to give him a best friend and a son.


	28. The City of Love

**Paris. Same afternoon.**

 

They were violating all possible french traffic laws.The OCBC chauffeur rushed through Avenue de la Grande Armée, circumnavigating around Place de l'Etoile like a lunatic. Peter closed his eyes for a minute. The parisian way of driving was terrifying. These people drove their cars like in a race contest. Except this was Paris, full of pedestrians, dogs and crazy taxi drivers. Not to mention bus chauffeurs...

At this rate they would never get on premises alive. Peter felt Stephane's hand gently squeezing his knee.

" Relax, Burke. Parisian driving is a bit ectic, I know...but Paul is the best chauffeur of the brigade. Trust me"

Peter exhaled slowly, his hand reaching for his brest pocket.

" Oh" he said " I forgot my cell at your office, Stephane"

" You won't need it for now" Stephane answered, his jaws clenched " you can always use mine if-"

" It"s ok" Peter muttered " It's not like I need to call my wife any time now"

_Sorry, El. I said we were done with Neal and all his tragedies.... I was wrong._

" You realize I'm way out of my league, here, Peter" Stephane pointed out. " whatever happens at Le grand Palais are in the hands of the RAID. And Neal's, of course. God, I hope-"

" I think I'm aware of that, Stephane" Peter said, tense.

Peter was lost in his thoughts as the chauffeur hurried along the Champs Elysées, using the bus corridors to avoid the traffic jam. The police was in the process of shutting down the whole area. The place was soon to become a nightmare. The Grand Palais loomed, magnificent, just on the right, mi-distance between the Arc de Triomphe and La Concorde.The beauty of the area took Peter's breath away. They often discussed this with Neal, spending a lovers week-end in Paris.

_" Paris, Peter. Paris is the City of Love. Paris is romance....I love Paris. When I retire, I think I want to live here, surrounded by beauty"_

_Well, Neal. Here we are, aren't we? In Paris. Surrounded by beauty._

This is really happening, Peter thought as their car stopped at the first police check-point.

" Get us to the Commandant. He's expecting us" Stephane barked, waving his badge.

Snow flakes started to whirl in the aquamarine sky. It would get dark pretty soon. Peter stared blankly at the twilight scenery. The Grand Palais stood, majestuous, right in front of him, pigeons flying in circles around the Dome.

There were pigeons too, that day, on the Rialto Bridge.

_Is this the way it's supposed to end, Neal?_

 

_< <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<_

Both men sized themselves up at a glance. Both men liked what they saw. Jean-François Lavel looked like a marine.

" Agent Burke" he said holding his hand out " I was expecting you. Thanks for joining us so quickly."

" We..came as fast as we could" Peter murmured, still in shock with the whole thing. There were reporters- God he hadn't thought about that- of course there would be reporters....at some point he would definitely need to call El.

" So, it seems we have a situation here, Agent Burke" Jean-François breathed, pinching his nose. " Maybe you can enlighten me on Neal Caffrey? He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who would turn into a rabid fanatic, holding hostages at gunpoint..but-"

" He isn't" Peter answered " in fact, Neal Caffrey is totally non violent. He hates guns-"

" I know. He does seem to be under a lot of stress though..I understand he was undercover for our italian friends for a couple of months and that the op went south-"

" Yeah" Peter said, heartbroken " he was held captive for a couple of weeks in the south of France. The guy who took him....Francesco Lorenzini...he is a maniac-"

" And a mafioso" Jean-François added somberly, scrutinizing Neal's Interpol file " Do we have any idea why Francesco Lorenzini went through all this trouble with Neal Caffrey? And above all, do you have any idea why Neal Caffrey is asking specifically for _you_ to run the negotiation? Aside the fact that the two of you were partners....wait..let me see...almost two years ago?"

" I have no idea" Peter whispered " that's what I came to find out"

" Agent Burke, how well do you know this man?"

_Intimately. Completely. Heart and soul._

" Very well" he said instead, his hands shaking " Neal was my CI. We were partners...Neal is..." Peter paused, correcting himself, " was my best friend"

 _" Is?"_ Jean-François Lavel narrowed his eyes " Or... _was?"_

Peter fisted his hands in his pockets. He didn't like where this conversation was going.

" I believe we are friends, still, Commandant."

" Really? When was the last time you spoke to Neal Caffrey?"

Peter sqeezed his eyes shut, bits and pieces surfacing all too vividly in his memory. Neal moaning, coming apart in his hands. Neal crying, begging him to stay. Neal, as beautiful as ever, standing in an art gallery in New York, calling himself François.

" I believe the last time we talked was when Neal left for Italy" Peter admitted, reluctant.

" That would be in March 2014, if the Interpol file is correct, Agent Burke. That's quite a long time for...friends"

Rafaelle Mancino stepped in, laying a comforting hand on Peter's forearm.

" Neal Caffrey joined TPC in March 2014 as a free man. He had completed his four years sentence for the US government. He was very eager to start a new life and to move on. I was under the impression he wanted to cut all ties with the White Collar division. For all that I know, he never maintained contact with his former collegues. I have to say I understand. Wouldn't you do the same after wearing a tracking anklet within a two miles radius for four years? "

_Thank you Rafaelle._

There was a long silence after that. Jean-françois Lavel rummaged through the files, unconvinced still.

" Fair enough" he said in the end. " Colonel, since you seem happy to fill in the gaps..would you mind telling me a bit more about your op in Italy? OCBC gathered some data for me but I would be delighted to hear some more..especially on the Lorenzini family"

" Neal was undercover on a very dangerous mission to locate some stolen art. The Museum of Modern art-"

" I'm familiar with that case" Jean-François said, impatient " Who isn't...so the art was allegedly stolen by the Lorenzinis and you sent Neal Caffrey undercover in Mafialand to locate the art."

" Yes. Neal Caffrey found out where the art was. The day he told us about it...he was kidnapped by Francesco Lorenzini and his goons." Rafaelle went on, " his cover was blown but instead of killing him, Francesco Lorenzini _forced_ him to perform a few heists in France by threatening him to kill all his former friends. The heists became more and more dangerous each time, raising red flags for Interpol,the OCBC and last but certainly not least, the FBI. That's...humm...I mean...a lot of action going on in there. And now, here we are, with Neal Caffrey threatening to blow hostages if he doesn't meet in person with Agent Burke."

" I agree it doesn't make much sense-" Stephane said, jumping in for the first time " I must admit we discussed this with Rafaelle and Peter. We even wondered if Francesco Lorenzini was after us..but we couldn't find any connections between the Lorenzini family and our previous investigations"

Jean-François Lavel sucked in a deep breath.

" We still miss some pieces of the puzzle here, I'm afraid. You see...as far as I'm concerned there are only three possible scenarios for Neal Caffrey to request a meeting with Agent Burke....number one -in the complete chaos that has become his life, Neal Caffrey turns to the best friend he ever had. His handler- This doesn't look very plausible to me right now. Number two- Francesco Lorenzini is after Agent Burke and is using Neal Caffrey to get to him-. I must admit my guts were all on this one at first. But there again, why would Francesco Lorenzini seek revenge if you guys never met? That leaves us with scenario number three. I'm not really fond of scenario number three-"

Jean-François Lavel paused, looking straight into Peter's eyes.

" Agent Burke, if you were to describe Neal Caffrey..as a person, would you say he is stable? He strikes me as _fragile._..and his past looks very traumatic..to say the least"

Peter sighed, pensive.

" I wouldnt say that, no. In fact Neal is highly resilient if you consider the kind of life he went through as a kid _. Impulsive_ , yes, _over sensitive,_ certainly. But definitely not fragile"

" Agent Burke, do you believe Neal Caffrey is holding a grudge against you? Because I do."

Peter's heart shattered in millions of pieces.

" Neal would never...he wouldn't..."

_Do you have any idea how in love I am with you, Peter?_

Peter swallowed, bile rising in his throat.

" But why? I mean it doesn't make any sense Commandant-"

" I think it makes perfect sense. Let's see. You caught him twice, threw him in jail, then released him as a prisoner under your supervision-"

" It wasn't..it wasn't like that" Peter yelled. " We worked together, he was my partner, my friend, my-"

_Lover._

" He chased his _own father_ to clear your name- yes, I've also read your file- and the day you get out of prison to run the division he quits. That's a bit strange don't you think? I understand you would still be rotting in jail for murder if Neal Caffrey hadn't caught his father. And you just..let him go? It says also here, in page four, that you _killed_ his mentor, Vincent Adler-"

" It was self defense, Adler was holding Neal at gunpoint" Peter snapped," I feel I'm being interrogated here, Commandant and I dont like the feeling"

Jean-François Lavel's face softened.

" I'm sorry. This must be very difficult for you. It's just that I don't like the idea of sending you in there, to discuss with someone who might have ulterior motives"

" Despite...everything, I believe Neal wouldn't hurt me." Peter said, defiant.

" Agent Burke, would you mind if....I'd like to have a word with you, in private"

" Not at all" Peter answered, shooting a questioning glance " please do"

They strolled to a bench nearby the van. Jean-François Lavel removed some photos from the file.

" Have you seen these, Agent Burke?"

" I have" Peter swallowed, his eyes lingering on the pictures of Neal and Massimo, " I have, a couple of days ago, in fact-"

" Were you aware that Neal Caffrey was...well...flexible?"

Peter stared at the pictures, speechless.

" You see..." Jean François Lavel added softly " I think you weren't...until he came out to you when he managed to pull you out of prison. I think he moved heaven and earth to save you, including sacrificing his own father. I believe Neal Caffrey had a huge crush on you. Not that you ever did anything.....unrequited love is the correct word in english, _n'est ce pas?_ And that's the reason you sent him away...despite the best closure rate I've ever seen...am I correct?"

Peter gasped, wringing his hands.

" No..I mean...no-"

" No he didn't come out? Or no he didn't have a crush on you? Or-"

" He didn't come out to me. He didn't have to. I already knew." Peter whispered, blushing.

" And?" Jean- François Lavel asked, patient.

" We were together" Peter blurted out, disclosing his private life to a perfect stranger, a Commandant of the french police's elite no less,in the middle of a hostage crisis in Paris.  " The reason I sent him away had everything to do with my wife. She couldn't stand it any longer. I've been regretting this decision ever since."

" I see" Jean-François Lavel said, non committal.

" I'm going in there" Peter shivered " I'm going in there, no matter what"

" You most certainly are" Jean-François Lavel sighed " but before you do, you and I need to have a little conversation. You are not familiar with those kind of situations. I am. Before we go back to the rest of the team, let me tell you something"

Peter braced himself for some unpleasant remarks about FBI Agents having unappropriate same sex relationships at work. But Jean-François Lavel had other ideas, so it seemed.

" If Neal Caffrey still has feelings for you, Agent Burke, that could be a good asset for us. It gives us leverage for the negotiation."


	29. Full Circle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> " There is nothing sadder than a conman conning himself" Vincent Adler in " Under the Radar" season 2 WC Finale.

**Inside the Grand Palais. Late afternoon**

 

Neal shivered, his hand still holding the gun. The young woman looked terrified. She wasn't aware, of course, Neal would never harm her.  
Neal's brain was slowly processing the dramatic turn of the late events.  
Francesco was definitely a psychopath.

_A very clever psychopath._

Le Grand Palais was a brilliant location to start with. It wasn't a museum per se. Therefore the french police wasn't protecting the premise when Francesco and his goons came bursting in with guns and launch grenades sufficient to blow the whole place apart.  
The FIAC, the International Modern Art Fair, was supposed to take place in three days. Artists and Gallerists from all over the world had arrived and were in the midst of crafting their stalls with their artworks. The very few guards around had been promptly neutralized.  
Neal had grasped by now the whole idea behind Francesco's sickening game.

_Peter was the target._

 The whole idea was to get him here, most probably to kill him.

Hell, most probably to kill them both, like Butch and Sundance when the final bank robbery goes south.

So far, Neal had fulfilled his part of the deal, asking for Peter. The RAID negotiator, a woman, had insisted upon a gesture from the hostage takers. They would find Peter Burke. In exchange, Neal needed to release a few hostages.

Much to Neal's relief, Francesco had agreed. Five hostages were released, most of them women. 20 were still held captive. Francesco was no longer in sight. Neal suspected he was somewhere near by, enjoying everything via live feed cameras.

The plan was dead simple.

As soon as Peter would set foot inside the Grand Palais, Neal would drop his gun and ask him to move near _Reclining Glass Buddha._  
 _Reclining Glass Buddha_ ,a gigantic 15 meters glass sculpture made by a chinese dissident, was the highlight of the exhibition.

  
Peter would be shot instantly.

  
 _«  But what if Peter comes in with RAID agents to protect him? » Neal had asked._

  
_«  We'll shoot them too » Francesco had answered._

  
_«  What about the hostages? » Neal had gulped_

  
_«  The hostages will be fine. When the job is done you'll surrender and walk out with them »_

  
_«  But what about your guys? They will spend the rest of their lives in a french prison...I mean, if they shoot guys from the RAID, not to mention an FBI Agent- »_

  
_«  That's already been taken care of » Francesco has said « these guys are russian mobsters with death sentences hanging on their heads anyway. They might as well stay in a french prison- french prisons are much friendlier than russian prisons- There is no death penalty in France, as you are well aware. There is no convention between France and Russia to extradate criminals. They will be judged here. We have good lawyers. And of course, there is always the possibility to escape from french prisons...but you know that better than anyone, Neal »_

Neal shuddered. He had to find an escape route. He had to find a way to warn Peter. He had to find a way to save Peter.

« It's for you » one of the goons barked, throwing his cell to Neal « It's the boss »

Neal grabbed the cell, his hands shaking.

« Congratulations, Neal » Francesco whispered « you did good. Peter Burke just arrived »

Neal felt his heart beat accelerating.

«  Peter came? »

«  Oh, yes » Francesco chuckled « he came for you. Doesn't he always? »

«  Francesco » Neal stuttered «  you said...that day in Saint Jean Cap Ferrat, you said I would find out- »

«  I remember, Neal, I said you'd find out when it's too late »

«  Well, it's too late now » Neal said, sucking in a deep breath « so? Why Peter? Why are you after him? »

«  Ah, Neal » Francesco paused «  it's a long, sad story. Are you familiar with the term _vendetta_?» 

  
« Vendetta is the italian word for revenge » Neal breathed

  
« Yes, Neal, vendetta is what happens when someone hurts a member of the family. »

«  But, Peter never- »

«  Shh » Francesco said « you have to listen to me, Neal. It starts like a fairytale, see. Once upon a time there was a young italian guy who went to Harvard to study Finance. He met a young american guy and they became best friends, like brothers, almost. They shared everything, women, money, ups and downs.... They remained friends for more than twenty years, despite the fact they lived oceans apart. The american guy visited his friend in Italy every summer. He was treated as family. One day, he found out he had a son in the UK. The mother never told him and gave the baby away for adoption. He tried everything he could but he never got his son back.  
I promised him I would take care of his son if anything were to happen to him.  
And I did. Because that's how it works in italian families like ours »

«  You're talking about Massimo's biological father, right? » Neal interrupted, his heart in his throat." James Fairchild wasn't his real father then?"

  
«  No, he wasn't"

  
«  What happened to Massimo's-"

  
«  He was murdered »

 

«  Murdered? » Neal gasped

  
«  By Peter Burke » Francesco added softly

  
«  Peter Burke is not a murderer » Neal yelled «  He would never...your friend must have been a criminal. I suspect it was self defense during one of his investigations- »

  
Francesco laughed.

  
«Self defense? No. I'm afraid that's not quite the way it happened, Neal. Peter Burke shot my friend from behind, with no warning »

  
«  That's impossible » Neal hissed « Peter always respects procedures when he-"

 

_There is nothing sadder than a conman conning himself._

Neal felt his knees go weak.

«  It's Vincent. Vincent Adler. He was your best friend » Neal whispered, his whole world collapsing

«  Vincente » Francesco corrected « and you're in love with his son, isn't that fascinating?"

_We have to stop hurting the people we love the most, Neal._

_You and me. Full circle. Just like the old times._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are. As you might suspect, there will be a lot of stuff revolving around Vincent Adler in the coming chapters.  
> As I said earlier, I think he was a wonderful vilain. Plus, he's hot. Yes. Especially in his relationship with Neal.  
> I rewatched season 2 Finale quite a few times. So many emotions there between these two guys.
> 
> The FIAC ( Foire Internationale de l'Art Contemporain) is a fantastic Art exhibit in Paris. It happens in October and not December...but I had to change this for the plot, you'll see why.
> 
> My internet is totally unstable. I'll do my best to post.


	30. Bonus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised I would post photos of the locations and RP featured in the story.  
> I always thought it's fun to see where the characters live and struggle ...  
> So, here it is.  
> Besides, France is beautiful.

 

 

 

 

 

Colonel Rafaelle Mancino TPC

 

 

 

 


	31. Bonus 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Lorenzinis

 

 

     Borghese Gardens, near The Lorenzini's villa in Rome

.    

 

"Racing to Heaven" Massimo's sculpture

 

 

 


	32. Bonus 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The stolen Art Neal was searching undercover  
> Remember these masterpieces have alas been stolen in 2010 in Paris. The fence dumped them in a trash can ( or so he says)  
> I hope it's not true..  
> Maybe one day our WC boys will find them ( I wish!)

### . Henri Matisse " La Pastorale"

### " Picasso " Le pigeon aux petits pois"

###  Modigliani " La femme à l'éventail"

###  " Nature morte aux chandeliers" Ferdinand Léger

###  " L'olivier près de l'estaque" Georges Braque

 

 

 


	33. Bonus 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Agora Gallery where Peter and Neal meet in New York City

  
  


### The Agora Gallery New York

  


 

Gil Marco Shani " Man and Leopard", the piece Neal wants to buy for the museum in Venice

   
  
 

 

 


	34. Bonus 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neal's various heists while he was held captive in Saint Jean Cap Ferrat.

 

 

  


Picasso Museum Antibes

"Faune Chevelu"  the drawing Neal had to steal in the museum

Saint Jean Cap Ferrat where Neal is held captive in the Lorenzini residence

The Eden Roc Hotel where Sheik Amal organized his son's wedding while Neal steals the Matisse at his home

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	35. Bonus 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Le Grand Palais where next chapter will take place.

 

.

 

 

Le Grand Palais, exterior and interior where Neal is waiting for Peter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	36. Reunited

**Paris. Outside the Grand Palais.**

 

«  So, how do we do this? » Peter asked, «  should I get in now?»

Jean-François Lavel displayed a few blueprints in the van.

« Have a look » he said, showing the interior of the Grand Palais «  this is the inside, under the dome, near the left exit. That's where they keep the hostages »

«  How do we know » Peter frowned «  we don't have live feed- »

«  We know because we debriefed with the five hostages that were let go »

«  How many hostages left? » Rafaelle asked, concern written all over his face.

«  Twenty »

«  How many bad guys? » Peter muttered, his hand pointing to the different exits.

«  More than enough I'm afraid » Jean-François Lavel replied somberly «  we're not quite sure because the released hostages were under a lot of stress... so we need to be cautious...but let's say about a dozen »

«  Jesus » Peter sighed «  and they are heavily armed of course »

«  Of course. You'll be going in with two of my men. I gather you are carrying your own gun? »

«  Yes » Peter said, his hand automatically searching for the familiar bulge of his Glock. «  I do »

« Perfect »

Peter took a deep breath.

«  They are ok with me carrying? »

«  Yes. They have enough stuff in there to blow your brains out no matter what. You won't be wired though, Neal was adamant about that »

«  Meaning? » Peter asked, his brows furrowing.

«  Nothing, really » Jean- François Lavel said quietly «  It's not uncommon at this stage of the negotiation. You have to gain the fanatic's- sorry _, Neal's-_ trust before anything goes further. I guess he doesn't want us outside to hear what he has to say »

« What are you guys expecting from me exactly? »

« Besides staying alive? » Jean- François Lavel smiled «  just..make contact with Neal. See what he wants, listen to his demands however crazy they might sound...and then get the hell out of there as quickly as possible to debrief us »

«  What if- » Peter gulped

Jean - François Lavel gave a placating smile «  I have that part covered already, Agent Burke. You'll have to trust me on this one »

 

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**New York City. Same time.**

 

«  He isn't answering his cell » El said, her fingers threading her curls in a frantic gesture « Di, I don't know what to do- »

« Let's don't get carried away » Diana hissed «  Peter might have fallen asleep somewhere...he's jet lagged still..when was the last time you spoke to him? »

«  A couple of hours ago. He was debriefing with...I can't remember his name- »

«  Rafaelle Mancino? The colonel? Neal's boss? »

«  Yeah » Elizabeth said, desperate «  I think Peter wanted to take a nap- »

«  Ok » Diana replied «  I will get in touch with Reese. I'm sure he has Rafaelle's number »

Diana rushed into the bedroom to pick her cell on the bedspread.

_Clinton, I need your help._

_Again?_

_Yes. Could you put me through to Reese?_

_Diana, we're supposed to be in a safe house. Reese won't take any calls._

_Please, it's urgent. It's about Peter. He is in danger._

_Hmm. There you go. Good luck._

« Agent Berrigan, I mean _Diana_ , this is against all procedures- » Reese was in a foul mood, Diana could tell. Well, tough luck.

«  Sorry Sir, I mean _Reese_ , it's about Peter. You were right all along. It is about the kid »

«  Maximilian?» Reese barked into his cell «  what about him? »

«  He's...Vincent Adler's son. Francesco and Adler were best friends at Harvard, ages ago. Francesco is seeking revenge. He used Neal to get to Peter-»

«  I think I get the picture » Reese snapped «  I'll take it from there, thank you, Diana »

 

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Peter walked with a firm step towards the entrance of the Grand Palace. He felt strangely calm despite the high stakes. A soft touch on his left forearm had him stop in his tracks.

«  You're wearing a vest, Agent Burke » Jean-François Lavel said quietly.

«  Yeah, of course, I'm sorry» Peter muttered, shouldering himself into the kevlar bullet proof vest. « Anything else? Or are we done here? »

«  I have one last question for you, Agent Burke, before you go in there » Jean-François Lavel said, his voice dead serious « do you trust this man with your life? »

«  I do » Peter answered «  I do. Always »

 

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

 

The brigade stood still, watching Peter climb the stairs to the entrance.

«  Commandant? » the young RAID woman, who had previously negotiated with Neal over the phone, looked puzzled «  Why didn't you tell him? »

Jean- François Lavel narrowed his eyes.

«  That the cavalry is already in place, ready to burst inside if anything goes wrong?  Because I have a feeling Peter Burke would try to save Neal's life at all costs if he knew....rather than his. And that's precisely what I'm trying to avoid»

 

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

 

Peter walked into the Grand Palais like he owned the place. His heart sank when he saw Neal, silhouetted against the light, near one of the hostages.

«  Peter » Neal breathed, taking a step into the light «  you came »

Peter thought Neal looked like shit, broken spirited and exhausted.

«  Of course I came » Peter answered «  That's what I do, remember? »

« Drop your guns, the two of you » one of the goons yelled «  and move _this way_ , near the statue »

Peter frowned. He certainly didn't want to let go of his Glock.

«  Neal? » Peter questionned «  should we-? »

Their eyes locked and it was like the first day they met, the non verbal link between them as strong as ever.

Neal subtly shook his head, the same way Peter did, that day in front of the DoJ building, praying all the deities of the universe Peter would remember.

_I get you. You're telling me this is a trap._

Suddenly, shots rang out from all sides, while the hostages started to run in every directions.

«  **_Down_**  » one of the RAID guys protecting Peter said, his hand squeezing Peter's neck «  **_down, now_** »

  
Peter dropped heavily on the ground. He barely had time to notice an army of men in black, springing from nowhere, shouting orders in French and firing at the hostage takers.

"Neal" he screamed, struggling to free himself from the two men that firmly held him down, "be careful"

Neal had a roll on the floor, thereby escaping the bullets whistling over his head. _Reclining glass Buddha_ shattered into thousand of pieces, spurting in all directions like little daggers. Neal dived to avoid one of the hostage-takers and landed face down on his left hand in a pool of glass. He emitted a muffled cry of pain as blood started to ooze from multiple cuts on his left palm and turned on his back to take a look at his injured hand.

“ Peter” he breathed, his voice strangled “ get out of here, you are the target”

“ ** _Let go of me_** ” Peter growled, finally escaping from his protectors “ he's my responsability”

In the days, and weeks, and years to come, Peter would not remember exactly what happened inside the Grand Palais. He would not recall standing unsteadily and leaping upon Neal to shelter him with his body, nor the sound of Neal's voice, nor even the sound of his own desperation to hold Neal, crush him, taste him and stay around him forever. The only memory that would remain was that of being completely and utterly whole again, of realizing with startling finality that the only thing that truly mattered was to save Neal.

"Peter" Neal said, gasping slightly as Peter's fingers wrapped around his shoulder "get away, please, they want to kill you"

"Shut the fuck up Neal” Peter whispered, sliding up Neal's body and leaning on his elbow, his left hand now softly stroking Neal's hip “I'm wearing a vest”

  
Neal swallowed, catching his breath.

  
“ In case we don't make it” he murmured, his eyes the deepest shades of blue Peter had ever seen

  
“ Yeah” Peter breathed, his mouth curving on Neal's throat “ me too”

 

And there, surrounded by broken glass, in the middle of chaos, gunfires and screams, Peter felt incredibly alive, incredibly in love.

 

 <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Neal was babbling incoherent sentences, lying on the gurney such as - _it's my fault Peter I'm sorry it's Vincent and I need to see Max please take me to Max he doesn't know_ -. He kept clinging to Peter's hand like a life line.

«  Monsieur » the paramedic said, « je pense qu'il est en état de choc »

Peter's brows furrowed.

«  I'm sorry » the young paramedic added, preparing an IV « I thought you spoke French. I just said I think he is shocky. This should help him to relax a bit. We need to take him to the ER to stitch his hand »

Peter leaned over, carefully brushing a strand of hair off Neal's forehead.

«  Shhh. You're not making any sense. Try to relax. You're okay. I'm okay. We're both okay. Nothing bad is ever going to happen to you again, I swear. »

«  Peter » Neal whimpered « It's Vincent »

«  Neal » Peter pointed out softly «  Vincent is dead »

Rafaelle came by, pale as a ghost.

«  Colonel » Neal begged «  you have to tell him, it's my fault. Francesco, he was after Peter. It's the vendetta- »

Peter dropped Neal's hand and started to pace back and forth nervously.

«  What's he saying? »

" The truth, I'm afraid" Rafaelle whispered " Thank God Reese called me the minute you walked in there. It was a trap. You were the target. Francesco was after you all along-"

" Yeah" Peter breathed " Neal said that when we were inside. I don't understand..I've never met the guy-"

" You've shot his best friend apparently. _Vincent Adler_. Does that ring a bell?"

Peter connected the dots immediatly.

«  Francesco Lorenzini and Vincent Adler? Don't tell me they were frat boys at Harvard? »

«  Care to look at this? » Rafaelle said, handing his laptop to Peter « Diana Berrigan just sent me these »

Peter's mouth went dry. The side by side pictures were striking.

« My God » he murmured, his head spinning «  Max is Adler's son? That's the reason why he was adopted by the Lorenzinis... »

«  Yes » Rafaelle added «  And Francesco spent more than four years looking for the guy who killed his best friend »

«  Vendetta » Peter said, rubbing his face with the palm of his hands. «  So that' s why he used Neal. To get me there. He knew I would come... »

«  It's my fault » Neal moaned again, « Peter, please- »

Peter rushed back to Neal, wrapping his arms around him, murmuring soft shushing words into his neck.

«  You have absolutely nothing to blame yourself for » he whispered «  just concentrate on getting better. I'll ride with you in the ambulance »

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, Peter would save Neal and Neal would blame himself for everything.  
> I think this is canon, right?  
> And by the way, I think I've passed 50k.  
> Not bad for a first attempt in this fandom.  
> Yay.


	37. Breakfast for two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hurt/comfort and hum...Porn.  
> Yes.  
> Two things I'm not really good at.

**Later in the evening. American Hospital Paris**

 

«  Agent Burke » the young nurse said, « could you come in, please? I think your friend here is having a panick attack »

  
Neal was still in shock after the whole thing. He didn't cope very well with the aftermath.The paramedics had given him a mild sedative en route for the ER. Neal was physically ok, all things considered. His left hand was a mess but a few stitches would do the trick

Peter rushed into the room, only to find Neal sitting with his head between his knees.

  
« He almost passed out » the nurse sounded apologectic.

  
Peter laid the palm of his hand between Neal's shoulder blades, gently helping him to lie down on the examination table.

  
«  Hey » he whispered softly «  what's wrong? 

  
«  Nothing », Neal took a sharp intake of breath. « it's just...I'm sorry. It's ok »

  
«  You don't look ok »Peter frowned, his fingers threading Neal's damp curls «  did someone hurt you? »

  
«  No. It's just....Peter »

  
Peter turned around «  would you mind giving us a bit of privacy? »

  
« No problem » the nurse said. « I'll get the doctor, he needs stitches on his left hand »

  
Neal looked impossibly young and jumpy, lying on the exam table.

  
«  Wanna talk about it? » Peter offered, his thumb hovering above Neal's parted lips.

  
Neal glanced suspiciously at Peter.« Aren't you gonna tell me to cow boy up? »

  
Peter leaned in «  Not this time, no. »

 

_Fuck. I almost kissed him._

 

Neal's lashes fluttered close.« When I was five, I got bullied at school. I put up a fight- »

  
«  I bet you did, kiddo » Peter said, remembering to breathe.

  
«  They took me to the ER to stitch the arch of my eyebrow »

  
Peter had a distinct feeling he wasn't going to like this story.

  
«They called my mother. They said my mother would come. She never did. She said she would - »

  
Peter could see Neal was fighting hard to keep the tears at bay.

  
«  I waited and waited...I begged them to wait for her. In the end, I was alone and it hurt like hell. 

 

_No wonder you always threw tantrums about hospitals._

 

« Listen, Neal. It's nothing serious » Peter said in his-I have everything under control FBI tone- « you'll get an anesthetic shot in your hand, that's the shitty part, the rest of the procedure is painless »

  
«  Yeah » Neal whispered «  I know »

  
«  You can leave, if you want » Neal offered, pretending very hard to be on top of things as the doctor came in with the nurse and all sorts of instruments.

  
«  I'm not going anywhere, » Peter smiled, « unless you want me to, of course »

  
« Hmm.. » Neal managed, staring at the stitch kit, obviously transfixed.

  
Peter gently pressed a finger on Neal's jaw line, forcing him to look away.

  
« Don't » he instructed, «  just look at me instead, ok?  Breathe, Neal. Yes. That's it. _Just-like-that_  »

  
«  Peter » Neal whimpered, curling his fingers around Peter's and arching in pain.

  
« Just be brave for a few seconds » Peter whispered, «  you think you can do that for me, baby? »

 

_Baby._

 

_< <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<_

  **Hotel le Meridien. Paris.  
**

 

The hotel was kind of perfect. For once, the Bureau had gone overboard on the expense rates. Peter slouched Neal on the bed.

  
«  You ok? I have your pain meds with me »

  
«  Mokay »Neal said slurring his words. Whatever they had given him at the hospital to _relax_ was proving to be very efficient. « Mgonna sleep »

  
« Yeah » Peter smiled, ruffling Neal's hair «  you do that . I'm right next door if you need me. I changed our reservations. We have en suite rooms »

  
Neal was already half asleep, sprawled on the bed.

  
«You need any help getting undressed? » Peter asked

  
« Ungh » Neal answered

  
« I'll take that as a no » Peter said «  Sweet dreams, buddy »

 

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Peter was brutally awakened by a series of distressed moans. His room was pitch dark. He rushed into Neal's room where the nightstand lamp, thank God, was still on.

  
« Hey» he muttered, his hands searching for Neal under the bedspread,  « wake up bab-  just wake up, ok? You're having a nightmare »

  
Neal emerged from under the sheets, all mussed and adorable.

  
« Peter? » he asked, his eyes blinking in the semi darkness « What are you doing here? »

  
Peter sighed «  We arrested the bad guys, remember? Things went south in the museum. You hurt your hand- »

  
Neal seemed clearly agitated.

  
«  Where's Max? »

 

_Of course._

  
_It made sense Neal would ask about his lover._

 

« Max is in Rome, Neal. We are in Paris right now. That's where you were supposed to- " Peter stopped mid sentence unable to say the words.

 

_You were supposed to watch me die._

  
There was a small perplexed line on Neal's forehead and Peter would have given anything to kiss him _right there._

  
« Msorry » Neal yawned.

  
« It's ok, buddy. Go back to sleep »

  
After the third nightmare, Peter decided to change tactics.

  
« You mind if I step in? » he asked in full sleep deprived stupor mode.

  
Neal didn't bother to answer, vaguely aware of a warm body spooning behind him.

 

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Peter woke at 7 am, the sun filtering lazingly through the shades. His palm was spread over Neal's heart, his mouth nuzzling the other man's neck. Neal sagged bonelessly in Peter's arms.

« What time izit? » he mumbled, stretching out his legs, his buttock languidly brushing Peter's cock.

  
« Early still » Peter answered softly. « Go back to sleep »

  
« Mmmm » Neal breathed, feeling Peter's massive erection 

  
« You used to like that didn't you? » Peter chuckled «  sleepy sex? Like you didn't really know what was going on? »

  
Neal repressed a shiver. God, he'd miss this man.

 

_Tender, sexy, protective, Peter Burke._

 

  What are we- » he blurted out, taking Peter's hand to his front.

  
«  Morning sex » Peter rasped, his voice full of want and need , delicately circling Neal's half hard cock with his fingers, like it was something fragile and precious.

  
Neal reared back, the way he almost impaled himself on Peter making the other man a little dizzy.

  
« Please, Peter, I want you » he murmured «  God, I want you »

  
Peter swallowed, butterflies in his stomach « You sure? »

  
« Yes » Neal answered with a slight trepidation «  _God, yes_  »

  
Neal all but mewled into the pillow as two slick fingers gently breached him.

  
«  I want to see you, Neal » Peter murmured, rolling Neal on his back, his mouth on Neal's collarbone.

  
« Just fuck me, Peter » Neal moaned, starting to fly to pieces, « It's been such a long time »

  
« Yeah » Peter breathed, entering Neal in one long, perfect, thrust.

  
«  Peter » Neal said, before going completely silent. And then «  _Oh_ »

  
Peter couldn't believe he was doing this.

  
_Fucking Neal,bareback._

  
_In a hotel room, in Paris._

  
«Oh» Neal said again,spasming, a little breathless, his pleasure surging in strong wawes, as Peter was slowly taking him apart « Oh...God »

  
«  Neal? » Peter frowned, delicately brushing some tears off Neal's eyelashes, concern written all over his face «  You ok? »

  
« Yes » Neal shivered, clinging to Peter « yes. It's just...it's... »

 

_I had forgotten you sometimes cry when I make love to you, Neal._

  
_I had forgotten how beautiful you are when you're about to come_.

  
_Why, in God's name, did we ever stop doing this?_

 

_< <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<_

 

They spent the morning in bed, falling asleep in each others arms, learning their skin all over agin.

  
« We need to get up Neal» Peter said, regaining a semblance of sanity around 11 am " you have a flight in three hours for Rome and I need to debrief with OCBC"

  
« So? » Neal smiled, looking fully debauched, mouth kiss swollen and tousled hair «  we have one more hour- »

  
« No, we don't Neal » Peter sighed exasperated. The airport is a least an hour drive...

  
« Let's enjoy all these _viennoiseries_ with homemade confiture de cédrat. God I love cédrat. Can't find it anywhere else in the world » Neal mused, devouring his second _croissant au beurre_.

  
« What the hell is _cédrat_ , anyway? » Peter asked, staring nervously at the miniature pot of preserve.

  
Neal licked his middle finger in a way Peter could only describe as obscene – God he was getting hard again- before stucking it in his first slice of brioche.

  
«  Cédrat is a kind of lemon. Very sweet. Find it in France and in Italy only. It's superb, you should try it »

  
« Nah » Peter shrugged. I'll stay on the safe side. Strawberry jam for me »

  
« I kept my promise, you know » Neal said softly, completely out of the blue.

  
« What are you talking about? » Peter frowned « what kind of promise? »

  
Neal narrowed his eyes, puting his cup of coffee aside – there was something about post coital breakfast in bed that was so utterly romantic it seemed a shame to ruin it- but here it was.

  
« The promise....last time we...hmmm »

  
« We?» Peter interjected before all color drained from his face.

 

_Promise me, promise me, you'll never let anyone do this to you, ever._

 

Peter took Neal's hands in his own «  But surely » he whispered, his voice wavering, « you and Max? »

  
« Max and I are in love » Neal answered, avoiding Peter's gaze « But he never...we never... »

  
Peter's chest was about to explode. Surely, Neal and Max couldn't just restrain themselves to foreplay- hell, anyone bedding Neal would have to be a monk to limit himself to foreplay-

  
« You don't get it do you? » Neal said, his lips lingering on Peter's temple. « Of course, you don't, how could you? »

  
Realization hit Peter like a ton of bricks.

  
« You've been- »

  
«  Yes »..

  
Peter was too stunned to say anything.

  
« You ok, Peter? » Neal asked nervously « Listen, what happened today was a - »

  
« Mistake » Peter added helpfully,« I'm sorry, Neal. I - »

  
« Don't be sorry for giving me an amazing fuck » Neal murmured, climbing in Peter's arms.

  
« I took adavantage of you » Peter said, crestfallen.

  
« Peter, I knew exactly where this was going..in case you're wondering. I'm 38..I'm no longer...whatever I used to be. Believe me, I wanted this as bad as you did... » Neal whispered, cupping Peter's face with his hands.

  
And just like that, Peter let Neal's tongue take possesion of his mouth. God, Neal was so – how on earth did he survive without being kissed like this- It wasn't a sweet, chaste kiss. It was hungry and desperate, Neal devouring every inch of Peter's mouth.

  
And then, it happened.

  
That small moan at the back of Peter's throat, the one that used to drive Neal frantic with need, like all Peter's defenses would tumble down, like there was nothing else in his world, like all his certitudes would be shattered and reborn anew around this stellar, unbelivable creature that was Neal Caffrey.

  
« Peter » Neal begged, overpowering lust clouding his mind, « Peter... »

  
« Neal » Peter said «  your new cell...I think you should take this call »

  
_22 messages in absence._

 

« Good morning, _love of mine_  » Max said cheerfuly « What are you doing right now, if I may ask? I've been trying to get in touch with you since yesterday night. It's a good thing our friends over here at the TPC kept me in the loop, otherwise- »

 

Neal dashed to the bathroom, his hand gripping the cell.

  
« I'm sorry...hmm...things got a bit ectic over here...and- »

  
« So I've heard, Caro mio » Max chirped. And then after a short pause «  Are you with Agent Burke?»

 

 _Fuck,_ Neal thought, closing his eyes.

 

« Yes » Neal answered. «  Yes, I am with Peter »

  
« In a hotel room? » Max asked, matter of factly, like he was about to discuss the weather forecast.

  
« Yes » Neal whispered.

  
« His or yours? »

  
There was a long silence on the line.

  
« Mine » Neal finally admitted.

  
« Ok » Max said. « Ok. When you get home, Caro mio, _we need to talk_  »

  
«  I guess we do » Neal said.

 

And then « I love you, Max »

  
« I know » Max sighed before hanging up «  but it doesn't seem to be enough, does it? »

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, judging by the multiple bits and pieces I still have to post on this story...looks like we'll get 45 chapters after all...and maybe more.  
> Hope you don't mind.  
> Le Méridien is a hotel where most of the aircrews stay overnight. It's a very nice hotel and it's convenient since it's very easy to get to Roissy Charles de Gaulle airport from there.  
> As you might have guessed, the next part will take place in Roissy Charles de Gaulle airport.


	38. Vincent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have internet today. Sorry for those of you waiting for this story.

  **Hotel Le Méridien. Paris**

 

Peter stared at the hotel room window, feeling both elated and desperate at the same time. In a couple of hours Neal would leave for Rome, back to his new life, back to his new love. Neal had gone completely silent since his phone conversation with Max. He had rushed into the shower, slamming the bathroom door behind him. Peter wondered how Neal was coping, showering with just one hand. He repressed the urge to walk into the bathroom to help him. He had to remind himself he had lost that kind of intimacy with Neal a long time ago.

Except for this morning.

This morning when Neal had fallen apart in Peter's hands, murmuring his name just like before, this morning when Neal had kissed him like his whole life depended upon it.

Neal suddenly emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped around his hips, rivulets of water still dripping on the nape of his neck. Peter swallowed and remembered to breathe normally.

«  Neal...uh...you should put some clothes on, please »

Neal turned around with that – _I did something stupid and you're going to yell at me-_ expression on his face.

« Neal? » Peter questioned « what's the matter? »

Neal whimpered and Peter's heart clenched at the sight of his bandaged hand. Neal's injured hand was soaking wet, blood starting to pool through the gauze.

« Neal » Peter sighed « you were supposed to keep your hand dry for at least 48 hours. We need to redo the bandage otherwise it'll get infected »

«  I know » Neal murmured, his eyes wide with pain «  I'll call reception, I'm sure they have a house doctor- »

«  No need for that » Peter said, delicately removing the towel from Neal's hips «  I'll take care. Let me help you, you're still wet"

Neal closed his eyes, melting under Peter's soft touches, his back leaning against Peter's torso.

«  Just look at you » Peter whispered, wiping away droplets of water on Neal's perfect abs « There. I think you can lie down on the bed."

Neal faced Peter, his gaze dropping on the floor. Peter cupped Neal's chin with his thumbs. «  It's ok. You'd be surprised at the things we learn at Quantico. I know everything about injuries and first aid stuff. »

Neal exhaled, sprawling himself on the bedspread.

« I'm afraid this is going to hurt a bit » Peter murmured, unwrapping the soaked bandage.

«  S'okay » Neal said, clenching his eyes shut «  Just...can you be real quick about the whole thing?"

 

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« I think you just got yourself another love line on your left palm » Peter chuckled, pulling Neal into a warm embrace.

"Hurts" Neal mumbled into the crook of Peter's neck.

" I know" Peter whispered " Shall I kiss and make it better?"

«  Yeah » Neal said, breathing in Peter's mouth, needy and everything.

It was perfect, open mouthed and dirty, a chocolate cake kind of a kiss, leaving both of them out of breath and slightly dizzy.

There were so many things Peter wanted to say right now, things you were not supposed to voice out by any means to your ex boyfriend, especially when he was about to walk out of your life forever. Things like _\- I want to wake up every morning with you, I want to spend every evening with you, please come back to me, let me take you back home-_

 _"_ Peter" Neal murmured «  Please don't- »

«  Don't what? »

Neal traced Peter's lips with his fingertips. «  Don't say anything. I know you want to try to change my mind...and I won't. Please. I have to go- »

«  I'm drivng you to the airport » Peter blurted out «  I asked Stephane to lend me one of his cars- »

«  You don't have to, Rafaelle ordered a cab for me- »

«  I don't have to » Peter said « but I want to »

Neal sighed. «  Okay. But we're not very good at saying goodbyes at airports »

Peter circled Neal's waist with his arms, his breath hot on Neal's collarbone.

«  I know. I promise I'll behave though »

_Even if it breaks my heart._

 

_< <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<_

 

 

Peter was driving silently en route for Roissy Charles de Gaulle airport, Neal gazing through the window, his hands fisted on his lap.

«  Do you plan on telling him? » Peter asked, because he had to.

Neal almost jumped out of his seat.

«  Tell him what, Peter? That I let you _fuck_ me?"

« That you let me _make love to you_ » Peter corrected, his hands gripping the wheel.

«  Okay, fair enough. That I let you _make love to me_  » Neal snapped, anger rising in his voice. «  I suspect he already figured it out, you know. He's not that stupid »

«  And about the other thing? » Peter continued, his heart in his throat – _you should not bring this up Peter Burke, you're such an idiot-_

« What other thing? » Neal asked, narrowing his eyes.

«  Ah come on, Neal » Peter hissed «  You know damn well- »

_The elephant in the room._

_Vincent Adler. You're boyfriend's father, for God's sake._

_And also your first man crush. Although you never said. Now, to be perfectly honest, you did say, in a way._

_«  Adler's the man who made me who I am today. »_

_«  I'm trying to reconcile the Adler I knew with the man responsible for-- »_

_I always knew. Of course I knew. How could I not? That's one of the reasons I killed him._

_Screw that Burke. That's the reason. Full stop. Stop kidding yourself. You should have followed the procedure. And you didn't.There was no - FBI-drop the gun-  on this one._

_Fuck._

Neal gasped, mouth agape. «  You are not willing to start a conversation about Vincent right now, are you? Because if you are I'm gonna ask you to pull aside so that I can get the fuck out of here and take a cab »

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, sorry again for those of you who expected Peter and Neal living happily ever after.  
> Not gonna happen.  
> At least not just now.  
> It's Peter and Neal, you know. They can kiss and the minute after start yelling at each other.


	39. Out of the box II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, I still have internet so I'm just going for it. Let's keep our fingers crossed.

**A1 Motorway en route for Roissy Charles de Gaulle airport.**

 

It started to snow as Neal unbuckled his seat belt, his hands grabbing his overnight bag at the back of the car.

«  Damnit Neal, put your seat belt back on » Peter yelled «  I'm not gonna drop you in the middle of nowhere on a french motorway »

Neal slumped back in his seat, his shoulders shivering with anger.

« There is a gas station two miles from here. Leave me there- »

« No » Peter said, taking a deep breath to calm himself « Just – _no way_ »

«  So, you want to have this conversation about Vincent, don't you, Peter? You want to discuss what happened that day in front of the wharehouse, where, if I remember correctly, you _accused_ me of stealing the art- »

«  Neal, would you just shut the fuck up, ok? » Peter exhaled, exasperated.

«  You _killed_ him, Peter- » Neal screamed, his eyes clouded with sadness «  you just shot him from the back- »

«  He was holding you at gunpoint, Neal. What was I supposed to do? He would've- »

«  Well, we'll never know for sure, won't we, Peter? What if he was just _bluffing?_ Vincent was a gambler. Always has been. That's one of the things I liked about him- »

«  Really? » Peter said, trying very hard to concentrate on the road – _and this has to stop right the fuck now otherwise we'll all end up in an accident-_

«  Really? » he continued «  were there _other things_ you liked about Vincent Adler? I'm dying to find out, Neal »

Neal clenched his jaws.

«  There are quite a _few things_ I liked about Vincent » he said quietly.

«  Come on, Neal » Peter hissed through gritted teeth, «  Adler was a crook, a murderer. Remember Mozzie...Kate...he also robbed thousands of innocent people with his Ponzi scheme- »

«  You think I don't know that? » Neal murmured «  But before....when I first met him..he was different »

Peter felt his throat constrict. Bringing up Adler while driving Neal to Roissy was the worst idea ever.

« Look, Neal. I'm sorry ok? » Peter said, squeezing Neal's knee. «  Let's drop the subject for now. I want us to part without screaming at each other this time if we can. »

 

Neal closed his eyes, fighting the tears. God why was it always so difficult with Peter? Too many feelings. Too many unshed tears and sleepless nights.

" At least this time, contrary to what happened in March 2014, we managed to have sex before arguing" Neal breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "  Ok "  he swallowed after a long, deafening silence. « Lets behave like adults for once. You're going to drive me to Roissy and walk me to the Air France lounge and we'll say goodbye. »

«  Because that's what we do » Peter whispered «  Say goodbye at airports like adults »

 

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The- saying goodbye with calm and dignity part- didn't work out very well. It took less than half an hour for Peter to blow a fuse right in front of boarding gate 36 where passengers were already starting to present their boarding passes and ID. They had moved on to other topics but Peter's possessive instincts had kicked in, making all sensible conversations utterly impossible.

 

« Is this the part where there is a plane looming in the background and you're supposed to say-I'm quoting you from memory, here- _this is what's best for everyone, Peter. You_ _go back to your life and I get to have one of my own?_ Because, damm it Neal, we've been through that one already and look where it took us- »

«  No » Neal yelled, « this is the part where I say you're a married man, and a father. You can't have your cake and eat it too, Peter. This is the part where I say I loved you more than I've ever loved anyone in my entire life. But I got over you _. I had to._ You gave me no choice »

«  Say you don't feel anything for me» Peter begged, his arms circling Neal's waist. « say it and I promise I'll leave now and you'll never hear from me again, I swear »

Neal's face crumbled and Peter thought he was about to cry or slap him in the face, or maybe both.

  
Instead, Neal disentangled himself from Peter's arms, shoving him against the wall, injured hand completely forgotten at that point.

  
«  There is a part of me that will always love you, Peter. But I'm in love with someone else. Don't you get that? »

«  For God's sake, _Neal_  » Peter erupted, his hands gripping Neal's shoulders « He is twenty one! Do you seriously believe...I mean there is a serious age gap there- »

«  That never stopped you in the past, Peter » Neal stated, his voice ice cold.

«  It was different- »

«  No, it wasn't. »

«  Neal » Peter said, his hands open in a calming gesture «  we can figure something out...I can talk to El. She...seems different now, more open to- »

«  More open to _what_ exactly, Peter? Neal snapped, turning his back to Peter and ambling towards the gate «  More open to raise her child with a father and his male lover on the side? I seriously doubt that. »

«  I never thought you would give up on us so easily Neal » Peter growled

Neal stopped dead in his tracks. He rushed back to Peter, his eyes dark with fury.

«  _Excuse me._ You must be kidding. We're talking about quite something here, Peter. See, what exactly are you willing to tell your son, once he grows up? Daddy and Mommy love each other but Daddy also loves another man too? In what kind of universe do you live in, Peter? I'm not sure we'll find some manuals for situations as fucked up as these »

«  I don't care» Peter pleaded «  we'll invent our own family story »

«  Peter, stop. This is getting nowhere and we both know it. »

Peter grabbed Neal's forearm, not willing to let go.

«  So, what happened this morning didn't mean anything? »

Neal froze, his hands shaking.

«  What happened this morning in Paris stays in Paris. It happened in the spur of the moment. And yeah..it felt fantastic. We were always good in bed, Peter... »

«  Just in bed? » Peter asked, relentless.

«  Of course not- _just in bed_. Peter...why are we doing this to ourselves? » Neal winced, biting his lower lip.

« You tell me. I still would like to hear it from you Neal. What we were good at » Peter insisted, in full FBI interrogation mode.

«  Chasing criminals, fucking and hurting ourselves » Neal screamed, eyes brimming with tears « especially the latter, if you want my opinion »

Peter opened his mouth but was too stunned to say a word.

«  It's not enough for you to destroy something just once » Neal spat, his voice hoarse with anger «you have to keep doing it over and over again. Well, let me spell it out for you. This relationship is over. You hear me? **_Over_**. Now, let me go. I need to get on that plane »

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. Peter letting Neal walk away without a fight.  
> What did you expect girls?  
> I mean it's Peter Burke, right?


	40. Paris-Rome AF 477

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Peter starts to behave like a normal human being.

_Neal doesn't want you by his side anymore. Neal doesn't want you in his bed anymore._

_Neal doesn't love you anymore._

_Peter Burke, you're such an idiot._

 

Peter stood, grief stricken and lost in the middle of the hall. Neal had disappeared at the boarding gate. Driven by a sudden impulse, Peter rushed to the Air France desk nearby.

«  I need a seat on the Air France flight for Rome » he said, breathless.

The young woman at the desk gave a guarded smile.

« I'm afraid it's too late Sir. They are about to close boarding- »

«  I need to get on that plane » Peter said, desperate «  please »

«  Sir, I understand but- »

Peter leaned in over the counter. The young woman seemed nice. Her wedding band looked brand new.

«  My- _the love of my life is on that plane_ and we just had a huge fight. »

The young woman started to type frantically on her key board.

«  You can't register Sir, it's too late, like I said they are in the process of shutting- »

«  I know » Peter whispered «  but you're about to ruin my life if you don't help me here...I thought...this is Paris, right? The city of love?»

The young woman blushed.

Peter could feel the exact moment he was going to win this case.

«  Ok, Sir. Let me try something else with the computer »

Peter felt his pulse racing.

« There » she said, obviously pleased with herself «  I can book you in business class, the economy class is full- »

« Fine, business class will do » Peter grinned, handing his credit card

« A one way flight Sir? »

« No » Peter sighed «  make it a round trip »

The young woman frowned.

«  You want to come back the same day? The plane comes back round trip one hour and thirty minute after landing. You won't have to wait that long....it's a little expensive though- »

«  Doesn't matter » Peter said, dancing on his feet.

«  _Quand on aime on ne compte pas_ » the young woman smiled.

«  Is this supposed to mean -when you love somene you don't mind spending every penny you have?" Peter asked, smiling despite of himself.

«  That's about it Sir. You have seat number 3 C. The total amount is 1500 euros. Is that ok with you? »

«  That's fine » Peter said, entering the code of his credit card. He would have paid anything to get on that plane no matter what.

 

Besides, Neal was a high maintenance type of guy. Always had been.

 

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

 

Peter rushed into the plane, disheveled and out of breath. Neal was sitting in business class- _of course Neal would be sitting in business class_ \- His seat number was 4A. The seat next to his was empty.

_Perfect._

«  Sir? » the stewardess virtually lept over him «  this gentleman specifically required to be left alone for the duration of the flight. I'm awfully sorry but you can't sit next to him- »

« This gentleman is an old friend of mine» Peter murmured, «  he'll be thrilled to see me »

Neal was bent near the plane window, supporting his forehead with the palm of his hands. His eyes stung but he felt too numb to cry. His throat was burning, his fingers were ice cold. He sensed Peter's presence before seeing him- Peter was still wearing the same cologne after all.

«  Peter » Neal hissed, clenching his eyes shut « please leave »

«  Not just quite yet » Peter whispered «  I just need to tell you a few things before- »

«  Then make it quick » Neal snapped, still refusing to look Peter in the eye « you do realize you're not welcome on this plane, Peter »

«  I know » Peter said softly, sitting down in seat 4C, invading Neal's private space «  please look at me baby. l...I can't do this if you don't look at me »

Something in Peter's tone of voice made Neal's knees go weak. He swallowed thickly and met Peter's eyes.

«  I managed to make a spectacular mess with the whole thing, didn't I? » Peter stated «  not only today but eighteen months ago also »

«  Is this the part where you are considering apologizing to me, Peter? Because I'm afraid it's too late for that- »

Peter took a deep breath, his fingers clutched in Neal's armchair.

«  This is the part where I say I can't stand loosing you »

«  Just look at you, quoting folk songs » Neal mused, sarcastic.

«  _Please, let me finish this, ok?_ » Peter begged «  I don't want us to part like this. Eighteen months ago I left you- It was the stupidest thing I ever did and I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am. I thought I could live without you, I thought I could forget you and move on with my life. _I was wrong._ I'm not asking you to forgive me. I'm just asking to sit with you a couple of hours so that we can at least talk this through. I need that. And... » Peter gulped, his voice wavering, «  judging by the look on your face, I think you need it too. »

Neal stared at Peter, flabbergasted.

«  Why is it that each time I want to erase you from my life, you say things like that Peter Burke? »

« Because I love you » Peter said without any hint of hesitation. «  I think I always have »

«  You never said- »

Technically, that wasn't true. Neal remembered Peter's whispered words of love only too well. But he was supposedly asleep so it didn't count, not really.

«  I did say » Peter murmured, his hand searching for Neal's «  I did say...but I was afraid to say it like this »

Neal shivered at the touch, his chest tightening.

«  You mean _like this_ in an airplane with the business class passengers and the whole crew watching us? »

«  Yeah. _Like this_. Do you want me to stand up and shout it on the roof tops? I would if- »

« Shh » Neal said, tracing a fingertip on Peter's lips «  No no no. I believe you. I always have. That's the problem in a way. I always took everything you said for granted. I shouldn't have »

«  You right » Peter said «  especially eighteen months ago- »

«  Yeah. You lied to my face that day » Neal said, reminiscing «  It still hurts like hell »

«  I know and I'm sorry. I should've told you. I realize that now. I should've shared eveything with you. But I was afraid you'd convince me to change my mind...and I couldn't cope with that. »

« What does he look like ? » Neal blurted out « do you have pictures? »

Peter took his wallet out.

« Here » he said «  this is Piji »

«  Piji?  » Neal asked, his brows furrowing «  short for Peter junior? »

«  Yep » Peter answered «  Mozzie called him like that right after he was born. It stayed ever since »

«  He is beautiful » Neal breathed «  he looks just like- »

«  Elizabeth » Peter added hastily «  I know. Everyone keeps saying that. It used to drive me crazy....now I'm just- »

«  Proud? » Neal smiled «  you should be. I always thought you'd make a great father »

The plane started to taxi before take off and the stewardess materialized herself at the aisle.

«  Monsieur » she said, frowning at Peter «  you should go back to your seat- »

«  It's ok » Neal said with a calming gesture «  he can stay. We have a few things to discuss...we need to catch up actually. Eighteen months is a long time »

«  We sure do » Peter replied, his fingers entwined with Neal's.

The stewardess smiled. These two looked like lovers making up after a huge quarrel. Nothing to worry about. It happened all the time on Air France flights, especially en route for Italy.

" Monsieur" she asked, looking at Peter " would you two gentlemen care for some Champagne after the take off? We have excellent Dom Perignon-"

" That would be nice " Peter said " I love Champagne"

" Peter?" Neal whispered " you hate Champagne. And what are we celebrating exactly?"

" The start of a new era" Peter beamed " in which I stop being an asshole and you are soon to be reunited with Max, your new love in Italy. How about that?"

Neal smiled.

" I like that, Peter"

Peter leaned in, his mouth caressing Neal's earlobe " to new beginnings then"

 


	41. The FBI Ring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter continues to be the nicest person on the planet.

«  That won't be necessary » Peter said, discarding the food tray «  I'm not hungry »

«  Me neither » Neal added «  But some more Champagne maybe? »

«  Certainly, Monsieur » the stewardess replied «  I'll be right back »

Peter fidgeted on his seat, trying to make himself comfortable. He still wouldn't let go of Neal's hand, afraid his courage would vanish if he did.

« After you left... » he started « nothing really mattered anymore. I was on auto pilot for a couple of weeks. It wasn't the same without you...and sometimes when I missed you so much I couldn't breathe I would simply storm out of the office and take long walks in the streets. Diana and Jones were great. Thank God I had them to watch over me. »

«  And at home? »Neal asked « how did you- »

Peter bit his lip, trying very hard to hide his feelings.

«  We argued. A lot. Every evening and sometimes during the night too. I started to sleep in the guest room and things went downhill from there »

«  But surely, when El- » Neal murmured, his thumb softly brushing Peter's wrist.

«  Ah well...it did take a bit of time. All we ever discussed were fertility clinics and donors...and ...nevermind » Peter gulped, remembering those horrendous sessions with photo albums «  El wanted the perfect father. So, she found him. To tell you the truth, I wasn't really interested »

«  Peter » Neal gasped «  that's so not like you- »

«  I wasn't my idea ok? And although I love my wife...well...when she got pregnant, she was over the moon and I was miserable. We lived on dfferent planets »

Peter sipped some Champagne before continuing.

« I never....I never allowed myself to talk about you...I even went so far as to forbid my team to mention your name. I wanted to make you disappear from the face of the earth. I thought it would be easier to forget you this way. It didn't work of course”

Peter stopped, his jaws clenching “ And then Peter Junior came into our lives. El instantly became the perfect mother. She seemed to know everything about everything...I, on the other hand was completely helpless”

“ I don't believe you” Neal said, dead serious.

“ I let El do most of the job...and I felt terribly guilty..I tried...but you know me...I'm not that good with kids -”

" That I agree” Neal smiled, remembering Peter's clumsiness with young children.

“ I kept telling myself this was the life I really wanted....I did everything I could to stop thinking about us. I even convinced myself I was succeeding until...well-”

“ Until?” Neal interjected, his voice hoarse.

" Until that morning at the Agora Gallery... you were standing there...it took me exactly two seconds to realize nothing had changed.. I still _wanted_ you. I almost-”

“ Yeah” Neal breathed, squeezing Peter's hand “ me too”

“ Jones came to me after this episode. He forced me to-”

Peter's hand closed around his drink before draining it in one go.

“Jones forced you into something you didn't want? I'm amazed” Neal said, mischievous.

“ He...made me say...your name. _Neal_. After eighteen months, it felt like a relief in some way, like I was accepting, at last, to deal with my...with us. Things got better after that, at home with El and the baby”

Peter let go of Neal's hand to rub his face with the palm of his hands.

“ Sorry” he mumbled “ I'm not making any sense, I'm afraid”

Neal looked at Peter with such intensity and blatant love that Peter's throat tasted blood when he swallowed.

Neal reached for Peter's arm and touched his shirt for a brief second.

“ On the contrary. I find you very articulate-”

“ I started to freak out though... I wanted to find out what you were doing in Italy..what kind of mission-”

“ Did you guess, about the Mafia?”

“ Of course I guessed. I wanted to make sure...so I called Reese. I made a fool of myself. He reminded me I was responsible for all this mess. I was devastated. It's-”

Peter felt the tears filling the back of his throat. He could hear Neal draw in a sharp breath right next to him. As Neal's hand touched his back, ever so lightly, Peter thought he would never stop craving for this. _Craving for Neal._

“ Hey” Neal murmured “ you don't have to do this if it's-”

“ Of course I have to do this” Peter snapped “ I behaved like a jerk and the least I can do-”

“ You chose your wife, Peter” Neal said “ I don't think that makes you a jerk.”

Peter wiped his mouth with his hand.

“ I should've explained you...at least, what was going on. I should've taken the time...I should've helped you to leave and pack...all the things you normally do when you love someone. Instead of -”

“ I quite liked that part” Neal chuckled “ break-up sex is always the best”

“Oh, Neal” Peter whispered “ please don't say things like that. I should've walked out of your door without touching you-”

“ That's not what I wanted, if you remember correctly” Neal replied “ stop being so hard on yourself”

“ Neal” Peter breathed, his voice anguished “ you got me out of prison, you chose me over your father...and I just kicked you out of my life. That was...despicable”

“ You saved me yesterday, Peter” Neal said quietly “ I think we're even”

“ You have to know” Peter pursued, stubborn “ That at first I didn't want to come to the rescue.”

Neal flinched because discovering Peter wouldn't want to save him right away was something he couldn't cope with, not quite yet, maybe never.

“ What-” Neal swallowed “ what made you change your mind?”

“ El. She said I should go to you because you were family and you needed my help. And Bancroft. After your disastrous heist at the Picasso Museum...he ordered me to fly to France and find you”

Neal stared at the floor for at least two minutes in complete silence.

“ Do you regret it? I mean coming to-”

“Let me show you how I regret” Peter replied, smoothly unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling up the armrest. He wrapped his arms around Neal, gently captured his mouth is a slow, hungry kiss, cutting short his muffled protests.

  
When they both couldn't breathe, he rested his forehead on Neal's, his hands laced on the nape of Neal's neck.

  
"I do not regret anything. From the first day I met you ... until now ... I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. Except the part where I fucked up. _That_ I wouldn't do again, I swear”

“ Peter” Neal moaned, his heart fluttering as Peter brushed his lips on his throat “ I don't think we should-”

“ I think you should rest a bit” Peter whispered “ we still have an hour before we land and you look exhausted”

“ I can't sleep” Neal blurted out “ I try..but-”

“ Nightmares?” Peter asked, gentle, his deep brown eyes filled with concen “ I think I know how to deal with those”

Neal sighed, remembering those night at the Burke's, after Kate's death. He had moved in, at the time, sleeping in the guest room. The arrangement was supposed to last a few days. It lasted for more than a month. Peter would hold Neal until he fell asleep, tracing slow circles on Neal's back with his fingertips, making him feel safe, cherished. Loved. Only when Neal was sound asleep would Peter leave and return to the master bedroom.

“ Do you want?” Peter questioned “ because-”

“ _I want_ ” Neal answered softly “ _I want very very much_ ”

They exchanged seats, Peter taking the one by the window so that Neal could curl by his side, his head buried in the crook of Peter's neck.

 

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Neal was breathing evenly, his fingers clutching the fabric of Peter's shirt. He didn't even stir when the plane started to descent. Peter smiled to himself. Unguarded, vulnerable Neal was the most beautiful sight ever. Peter wished they could remain like this forever, Neal resting in his arms, all sweet and warm like a spent child.

“ Hey” he said, his fingers carding Neal's dark locks “ we're gonna land pretty soon. You have to wake up”

“ Mmmm” Neal said, humming softly in his throat and running his thumb over Peter's lips “ thank you-”

Peter shuddered and Neal thought he heard it then. The sound of their hearts breaking at the exact same time.

“ Is this the last time I wake up like this?” Neal said, breathing into Peter's mouth “ Is this the last-”

“ Yes” Peter murmured “ the last- let me-”

“ Oh God” Neal pleaded “ just- Peter-”

Neal tasted like tears and Champagne and it reminded Peter of their very first kiss, that night at June's, when they both had their lives in their hands and believed everything was possible.

Only it wasn't.

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“ I want you to have it” Peter said, adamant, while they were leaving the plane” We'll be living continents apart and I want -”

“ Peter, it's your FBI ring. I can't-”

“ You can if I say so. I almost lost you because of that ring. I'd like to see it as the new symbol of our friendship”

“ Hope and renewal” Neal murmured, pocketing the ring. “ Okay. I'll keep it”

 

 

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Max paced back and forth in the arrival lounge. He was extremely tense since his last phone conversation with Neal.

_Neal._

Max still had a difficult time calling his lover Neal. It was hard to reconcile this man- _Neal the convicted felon, ex FBI now a TPC Agent_ \- with _François_.

François, his French, beautiful, carefree artist lover.

Yet, François and Neal were the same person. Although Max didn't doubt Neal's feelings – everyone including the Colonel made that abundantly clear- he was still very insecure on where Neal stood right now. Especially after the Paris-Peter Burke episode.

  
Max was hundred per cent sure Peter Burke was _the man._

  
He didn't understand why Peter Burke had stormed into the Paris disaster. Maybe the Colonel had convinced him to come and save Neal at last?  
Maybe Peter Burke was still in love with Neal?

And why would Francesco, his beloved brother, throw Neal into those criminal activities? Francesco was still in the wind, somewhere in France no doubt, but the Fench Police was on his trail. God, what a terrible Christmas they were going to face in Cortina with Francesco behind bars and his father's heart shattered in million of pieces.

Max had read Neal's file while he was anxiously waiting with the Italian brigade for the Paris crisis to come to an end. Neal had a tormented past with lots of betrayals, deaths and dark secrets. Peter Burke seemed to be his rock, his anchor to a better life. They had a fabulous closing rate. But why did Neal leave for Italy when his carreer at the FBI seemed so promising?

Moreover, Neal was a compulsive liar. Always plotting and scheming behind his partner's back. The Italians seemed to believe he was completely reformed – at least that's what the Colonel had written in his latest evaluation- but Max had serious doubts about that.

Why would he bother to build a relationship with someone so fucked up?

 _You're crazy in love with him that's why_ Max thought. _And you would do anything for him, no matter what._

All of Max's questions remained hanging in the air for the time being because Neal walked out the door. He looked exhausted and slightly melancholic, a bit rough aroud the edges too. Max wanted to hug him forever and never let him go.

“Max” Neal said, his voice strangled “ It's good to see you”

“ Come” Max murmured, his arms around Neal to shelter him from the outside world “ let's go home, Caro Mio. You need to rest and I need-”

Max stopped mid sentence, overwhelmed and unable to speak.

“ Yeah” Neal whispered “ I think I need you too”

“ Then come with me” Max said, holding Neal's hand “ the chauffeur is waiting for us outside”

“ I'll de damned” a heavy American accented voice burst right next to them “ The archeologist. Oh man, you haven't changed one bit. What are you doing in Rome?”

  
Neal squeezed his eyes shut. This wasn't good. Peter was standing two hundred meters away, en route for the duty free shops. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard his name. The American guy, a former FBI Agent judging by the look of him, rushed to meet Peter.

“ _Peter Burke_ ” he beamed “ what a nice surprise. Where's the lovely Elizabeth? You guys are in Italy for Christmas?”

 _It's a small world_ Peter thought, holding his hand out to greet Jonas Crawling, one of his instructors at Quantico.

“ Jonas” he said “ How nice to see you. You look great. No, I'm on my own actually, I'm flying back to Paris right now”

“ Hey” Jonas ventured “ time for a quick coffee? I have one hour before my plane-”

Max was standing right next to them, his hand still holding Neal's. Peter could tell he was debating whether or not to jump into this conversation.

“ Sorry, am I interrupting something, Peter?” Jonas asked, puzzled “ do you know these gentlemen?”

Peter felt a huge sadness wash over him. He wasn't ready to have a hot argument with his ex lover's new boyfriend. At least not just now. Neal looked like he was going to pass out and Peter thought he ought to play the -elegant old wise guy- part.

At least for Neal's sake.

As it turned out, he didn't have too.

“ Good evening” Max said, extending a hand “ you must be _Butch_. I heard what you did in Paris. It's quite impressive. Thanks for bringing Neal back safe”

“ Good evening, Maximilian” Peter answered, stunned by the exquisite politeness – must be the British upbringing, no doubt- “ I did what I had to do”

Neal opened his mouth to say something but Max was quicker.

“ Neal” he said “ you should have told me your.... _friend_ was flying with you to Rome. I would have made hotel arrangements-”

“ I'm not staying” Peter added hastily “ and to be perfectly clear I wasn't supposed to fly with Neal in the first place. I joined him at the last minute and it was my decision, not his”

“ I see” Max replied, narrowing his eyes “ It was nice meeting you, Peter Burke”

 

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The quietness of the limo felt like heaven. Neal closed his eyes, trying to sort out his feelings. He desperately wanted to reassure Max, to tell him he loved him. Max was sitting silently, as far away as possible, respecting his need for privacy.

" So.." Max uttered, after a long deafening silence " Butch and Sundance? Hum?"

" Yeah" Neal said " we were...we were good together...really good"

" I can see that, Neal"

Neal looked Max straight in the eye, aware of what this beautiful young man meant to him,  aware of what he just did, of how incredibly difficult it must have felt for him.

 

"Thanks" Neal said " for not making a scene about this. I know...you were not expecting _us_...I mean _him_ , to be there. I don't think I could've handled it if you had-"

 

" I know"

 

" For the record" Neal continued, entwining his fingers with Max's " you have to know it's over. For more than a decade, Peter used to be my everything. But it's over now"

 

" Are you sure?" Max swallowed " because-"

 

" Yes" Neal said, his voice hoarse " Yes. I'm very sure"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, at some point these three guys had to meet somewhere.  
> Neal's love life will remain a complicated story I'm afraid.  
> Well, we'll see what the future holds


	42. The Murano Pendant

**Rome. Lorenzini Residence.**

 

Neal entered the lobby with a heavy tread. The house was silent, the servants having already left for Cortina .The last time he had set foot in this house was the day of his kidnapping. Six weeks ago already, one might as well say an eternity.  
Meanwhile, his life had turned into complete chaos. Neal felt like he had been dislocated and patched back with extreme violence. He wondered if he would ever manage to collect the scattered pieces of his soul to become whole again.

He seriously doubted it.

Sensing his distress, Max rested a gentle hand at the small of his back.

" Should I take you to your room? "

Neal almost jumped out of his skin " What do you mean _my_ room? Aren't we sleeping in the same room? »

«  I thought... » Max stuttered «  I wasn't sure about- »

Neal stopped mid stairs, cupping Max's face with both hands «  I told you Maximilian. I'm very sure. I think this is the only thing I'm sure right now. If you take that away from me- » Neal swallowed audibly «  I'll be a basket case »

 

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Neal left his clothes scattered around the bed. He was dying for a long hot bath and possibly a glass of red wine. Max had brought a glass of Neal's favorite wine and run the bath - of course, Max was perfect- Neal slid in the hot water with a sigh of pleasure while Max took the liberty to unpack his lover's travel bag and to hang everything in the closet.

« I visited your apartment with your collegues this morning » Max said «  to pick up some clothes for you. You didn't have a lot with you when you were kidnapped. You'll need some ski outfits for Cortina though. You don't have _anything_ warm enough in here- » Noticing Neal's jacket on the carpet he carefully picked it up «  It's not like you to treat your clothes like that, Caro Mio- » Max felt something bulky in Neal's pocket and slid his fingers inside.

«  I might as well empty your pockets » he muttered to himself before feeling a chasm open under his feet.

Because what was inside Neal's left pocket was unmistakably a jewelry box.

With a ring inside.

Max rushed to the bathroom, anger tearing his guts apart. Neal was soaking quietly in the bath tub, his eyes closed, sipping some wine.

«  Care to share? » Max hissed, his fingers holding the ring like it was poisonous.

Neal's eyes fluttered open.

«  Mmm? What is it sweetheart? »

«  Did he propose _before_ you let him fuck you or was it the other way around? » Max asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

« This isn't what it looks like- » Neal blinked.

«  Come on, Neal, spare me the cliché- »

«  Max- »

Max raised his hand, his mouth contorted with anger.

« What am I supposed to _think_ , Neal? You show up with your ex after having spent the night with him in a hotel room in Paris...and now I find this in your pocket. I mean, _it's a ring_. So I guess he must have had a good reason to give it to you....and why did he fly with you in the first place? »

Neal opened his mouth to answer but Max cut him short.

«  Let me guess. He drove you to the airport where you two argued... and he decided to chase you in the plane...and- » Max gulped, blinking hard to stop the tears.

« I came back- » Neal yelled, standing naked and beautiful in the bath tub and taking Max's breath away «  I came back to you because I _wanted_ to- »

«  So, he did propose? » Max asked, his voice barely a whisper

«  No, he didn't » Neal growled, grabbing a towel and stepping out of the bath tub «  he apologized for what happened eighteen months ago and gave me the ring as a souvenir and a symbol of our renewed friendship »

«  Friendship? » Max snarled «  really? »

« Yes » Neal answered, his mouth a thin line «  friendship »

«  Neal » Max said, calmer now «  what happened eighteen months ago? »

«  Peter came out of prison and broke up with me. I was asked to leave the White Collar Division and I ended up in Italy working for the TPC. I think you know the rest » Neal sighed. «  I never heard of him ever since until yesterday night where he showed up in Paris to save me »

There was so much more behind that story and Neal sensed Max wasn't fooled by his short summary. Still, Neal wasn't willing to share the reason why Peter came to the rescue, not quite yet. Because opening that can of worms right now was a little bit too much.

 _One step at a time_ he thought to himself.

Luckily, Max seemed more interested in the _Peter-Neal_ dynamic than the _Francesco-forcing-Neal-to- commit-crimes_ \- dynamic.

« I'm sorry » Max said, coming closer as Neal winced, drying himself with his injured hand «  you're obviously in pain and I shouldn't hassle you with this but...I don't know where we stand right now and it's killing me »

«  I _already_ told you, Max. Peter and I..we're done. It's over »

«  Let me help you » Max said, his arms wrapping around Neal « here, take this bathrobe. I'll get you some clothes in a minute. I think you should rest- »

«  I think we should talk » Neal replied, looking Max straight in the eye « isn't this what you want? »

«  I'd like to understand how this man robbed your heart for more than a decade » Max gulped «  I don't think I can put this behind if we don't talk about _him_ »

«  Come here » Neal said, gesturing towards the bed «  I need to lie down »

 

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Max and Neal were sprawled on the bed spread, Max resting his head on Neal's chest, stroking his lover's hips.

«  Do you know where to start? » Max whispered « It's a long story, I guess.. »

«  I know exactly where to start » Neal chuckled « Like _our_ love story, my story with Peter began in Italy. I was on a job...with Kate in Venice. I had forged Canaletto sketches and stolen the originals in a private collection. The Italian Police was closing on me... »

«  Our friends from TPC? » Max asked, disentangling himself from Neal's arms to rest on his elbows «  Was is the Colonel? »

« Yes, it was Rafaelle..only he wasn't Colonel at the time..just running this op with Peter Burke and the French Police. Peter had been chasing me for quite a while already....for other forgeries and thefts in the US. He was a clever opponent »

«  You enjoyed him chasing you? Like foreplay in a way? »

«  I did. A lot. Some part of me wanted this chase to never end. It was a bit like- »

«  Flirting? » Max offered «  some kind of a seduction dance? »

« Yeah » Neal murmured, reminiscing about those glorious days «  I guess you can say that ...anyway I was supposed to leave Venice, Kate had left already for Florence and yet...I just couldn't....I wanted to spend a few extra hours in Venice on my own..enjoy the city one last time. I knew Rafaelle and his boys were getting close.... »

«  Did you know Peter was there too? »

«  I didn't » Neal smiled fondly to himself «  I found out when I saw him on the Rialto bridge »

 

 

**Venice. Circa ten years ago.**

 

« Burke? » We're closing in on your boy. He's sightseeing around the Grand Canal at the moment, can you believe it? Wanna join for the capture? Stephane thought we should wait for you. He's all yours, after all » Rafaelle said, his lips curving in a friendly smile, just as FBI Agent Peter Burke stepped out of the vaporetto «  I know you just flew in from NewYork and you must feel like shit, but- »

Peter felt the thrill of the chase rippling through him.

_Neal._

He was going to arrest Neal and bring him back to the States. Finally. He was going to – _Oh God_ \- _cuff him_ and drag him to TPC headquarters to question him. Peter shivered at the thought.

_Neal._

His beautiful, blue eyed, criminal wunderkid. This cat and mouse game had been going on for ages now, even his wife was teasing him about it.

_«  You almost look enamored » she had laughed one night when Peter was staring at Neal's latest photos – beautiful shots from the TPC surveillance team of Neal diving, naked, in the Comtessa Di Contini's swimming pool in Rome- Peter couldn't take his eyes off them._

_«  If we weren't happily married I would think you have the hots for him » she had added «  he is sexy though, I have to agree on that, hon. Are you sure you want to send such a beautiful creature in prison? I wonder what's gonna happen to him.. »_

_«  I have to capture him, hon. He's a felon, a con man... »_

_«  But he looks so young » El had sighed «  You sure he can't be reformed? »_

_« I wish, hon. But his behavior so far tends to show a deep desinterest for an honest life...I'm afraid he'll need prison to realize this isn't a game. »_

« Of course, I'm in » Peter grumbled «  I wouldn't want to miss this.. »

«  Ok, come with me, this way » Rafaelle said, gesturing towards a small alley off the Grand Canal. «  We'll join the rest of the team. »

«  My travel bag? » Peter said «  I can't run around with- »

«  Of course. Maurizio will drop it at your hotel » Rafaelle shrugged, tossing Peter's bag to one of his Agents «  let's go »

 

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«  There he is, _the little shit_ » Stephane hissed, holding the binoculars as Neal approached the Rialto Bridge « Let's split. We are going to close both exits. I can't believe how arrogant he is , walking around like that when he knows we are right behind him »

«  Caffrey believes he is invincible » Peter laughed « it's a part of him I find quite endearing, I have to admit »

Neal was walking right into the trap. Peter's heart clenched at the thought of this brilliant young man spendind most of his youth in prison. So many charges against him.....Neal was facing at least 10 years, maybe more...Peter promised himself he would try to obtain a reduced sentence.

Unaware of all the Agents gathering around the Rialto, Neal loitered in the central walkway of the bridge where all the little shops sold souvenirs for the tourists. He was looking for something to offer to Kate. Something cheap, like the wine they drank, pretending it was high class Bordeaux. Neal spotted a pendant with a small Murano glass heart. Yes. That would do. They would laugh and say it was made of ruby. Neal swore to himself he would buy her some real jewels, one day.

«  Signore? » he asked the man in the shop «  how much for this? »

« Sir? » the owner of the shop whispered «  I think you have the Carabinieris right behind you- »

Neal dropped the pendant, instantly on guard, and shot a glance over his shoulder.

_Yup._

Rafaelle's boys. And Stephane Drumont too. The hell with Interpol and their system. He should have known better.

Neal bolted to the walkway along the outside balustrade. The other end of the bridge was also packed with Carabinieris. And amongst them-

Neal's mouth went dry.

 _Peter Burke_. In person. Tired and probably jet lagged, judging by the scruff on his jaw line.

_And hot as fuck._

Their eyes met for the first time and Neal fought the urge to turn himself him right there, just to feel those strong hands on his shoulders.

«  Neal Caffrey » Peter barked, chasing him with long strides « you're under arrest »

Neal froze, both aroused and terrified, the sound of a vaporetto passing under the bridge covering Peter's voice.

«  Not quite yet, Agent Burke » Neal replied, tilting his head to salute Peter with his usual nonchalant grace before straddling the balustrade.

Peter was _so close_ , Neal could smell his scent. Wooden and slightly musky.

«  _Jesus Christ, Caffrey_  » Peter screamed « Stop »

« See you next time, Agent Buke » Neal said, his eyes twinkling.

And then, just like that, he jumped and landed perfectly on the boat's canopy.

As the boat drove away Neal caught Peter's expression.

_Fear, awe, lust and desperation. All in one._

 

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" Shit" Stephane muttered " That was close. What was he after in the shop?"

" This" Peter murmured, his fingers tracing the small pendant " I suspect it was for Kate Moreau"

" Ah" Rafaelle sighed " Caffrey and women...that's a story in itself"

" Signore?" Peter asked " how much?"

 The shop owner looked flat out terrified. " For you, signore...I'll make a good price. 150 euros? "

" 100 euros" Peter said " take it or leave it"

 

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« That's awesome, Caro Mio » Max whistled, clearly impressed «  But Kate never got her present in the end »

«  She did » Neal said, his voice barely a whisper «  Peter bought it after I jumped. He gave it to me in the van when they drove me to prison the first time »

Neal paused, obviously at loss with words.

«  I think » he said, hesitant, «  I think that's when- »

«  You started to fall for him really hard? » Max murmured «  I would've if I were you »

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neal and Peter running into each other for the first time at the Rialto Bridge is of course not my idea in the first place. It's Elrhiarhodan's wonderful fic "Neck Deep in a Game of Cat and Mouse" that inspired this Chapter.  
> She wrote that little gem in 2010 ( I think) and it's part of her Paladin Verse . If you haven't read this fic you should. Just because.
> 
> Here it is. Go read now and enjoy.
> 
> http://elrhiarhodan.livejournal.com/70228.html
> 
> Also, from a narrative standpoint this makes no sense since it's from Neal's POV ( he is telling the story) and he couldn't possibly know what was in Peter's head at the time, nor in the others.  
> And you know what? I don't care. Lalalalal.


End file.
